The Dawn Through the Night
by GerrysJackie
Summary: Epilogue up! Fleeing paris, Erik gives into his darkness and tries to end his life but instead, he ends up with a tiny companion. Seven years pass before he faces his past again. EC
1. Chapter 1

Welcome to my third Phantom work of fiction. This will be a different take for me. I am not normally an Erik/Christine person, but I decided to do away with my own misgivings, and try my hand at it.

Thus, "The Dawn Through the Night" was born. Erik is played by Gerry Butler…for me, there is no other. Christine resembles the movie Christine, as does Brigitte Giry and Raoul.

I do not think that my story line bashes Raoul, but I do think it keeps in line with the times. The aristocracy were a cheating, back-stabbing, blood-thirsty bunch…I have made Raoul no different than any other nobleman.

For the sake of my story, the last scene of the movie does not happen. The chandelier never falls, and the story picks up after his mask is removed during the performance of "Don Juan".

Also, for the sake of my story, Madam Giry never married; and therefore, Meg does not exist.

Enjoy my little chickadees!

THE DAWN THROUGH THE NIGHT

CHAPTER ONE

_May 31, 1872_

_**Scene**: Opera Populaire, the night of the "Don Juan Triumphant" performance, Christine has just removed the Phantoms's mask during the performance._

He had prepared for this; she had done exactly what he thought she would do…betrayed him. She stood in front of him now, with her hand on his grotesque cheek; looking at him as if his visage had no bearing on what she had done.

Agonizing fury raged through him…no one would ever understand him…he was beyond comprehension, his face, his genius, his talents; they all made him more of a demigod than a human; and he was tired of fighting. He had sealed his fate tonight…he knew that; he had known it before he walked out onto the stage.

The officers stood at every exit, ready to gun him down if he so much as flinched in any direction. This was it…the end of the line; the Phantom would be no more; the life he had known amounted to nothing. The skills he possessed; the knowledge he possessed – all would be lost.

He had the trap set, he could easily propel them both down the shaft and straight toward his lair, but of what use would it be? It would just prolong the inevitable. She had already made her choice when she ripped the mask from his face; in actual fact, she had made her choice in the graveyard…how he wished that boy had rammed that sword through his heart and prevented this entire, desperate, plea for love.

She had done this to him, her and her meddlesome lover. The Phantom thought about all that he could have done differently as he felt this heart leap in this chest. He marveled at how long it had taken the events of his life to catch up with him

She would never know…she would never know how much he loved her. The plan had been to confess his true intentions to her tonight; now he was relieved he had not humiliated himself by telling her he loved her.

Did he love her? He really wasn't sure, he had no real knowledge of love and how it felt. He had neither given it nor been shown it.

Trying desperately to hide the pain in his eyes, he dropped them from her searching ones. She had never been his…he knew that now. He had wooed her and given the best he had to offer…not himself, you see…of course not; no woman would want that…he had offered her his music, his genius; it was his only legacy; his only beauty.

She had been the first in years to see his talents used for good; and she, as did all the others, betrayed him. Many of the things he was accused of over the years, he was guilty of; robbery, deceit, torture of the mind and body, drug abuse…how ironic it was that the crimes he stood to answer for in the next few days…were not his.

His music; the one steady companion in his, otherwise, dreary and lonely existence; he had wanted to share it with someone…first with his mother, then with his gypsy master, then with Madam Giry. Even in his short stay in Persia, he had found those with whom he wanted to share it. All but one had betrayed him. The child had been the only one to appreciate the gifts he shared with him. Overall, Persia was a part of his life he wished he could forget; he still heard the screams in his nightmares.

He had returned to Paris a more damaged than he had been when he left. He had been nothing but a ghost when he returned; a cold, unfeeling, corpse. He was barely nineteen when he left Persia – but his mind had seen and participated in far more than any nineteen year old should have to; much of it, he had no choice in, but that did not change the wrongness of it.

Then, there had been Christine; the girl he had coached and wooed. She had just turned ten when he returned from Persia, and she needed a friend to guide her after the death of her father. He assumed the role of an angel and trained her voice to reach levels she never thought were possible. He gave her his gift of music by coaching her with his own voice, his one point of beauty.

He had somehow lost Brigitte. She had pulled him from the gypsies grip and given him a place to live. She had seen the uncanny, almost inhuman intelligence he possessed and catered to it with books, parchment paper, and pencils. She had been many things to him; rescuer, teacher, friend, sister…now, she had become aloof and distant; he knew she feared what he had become; at least, in the eyes of mankind...but it was probably for the best.

Now, she resorted to being his messenger…carrying his demands to the managers and operators of the Opera Populaire; beyond that…she had nothing to do with him.

He backed away from Christine, slightly, and made no jerking moves. She was a good actress, he would give her that. She had almost convinced him that she cared for him, if only a tiny bit. Her eyes, as she held his ugly face in her hands, had displayed many emotions.

She had ripped the mask from him and shown the audience, players, and anyone else present, his horrid visage…and everyone had screamed; except her. It was as if she were looking straight through him. He would never forget the look of fear and loathing in her eyes…it would follow him to the grave.

He turned to Christine one more time, allowing his cold, yearning eyes to meet hers as he whispered and put his hands in the air, indicating his surrender, "You're free…go to him."

Had he ever loved her? Was he capable of love? He really had no idea. He knew one thing at that moment, he would shield his worthless heart from ever feeling this agony again, should he live past this week; or this night, for that matter.

Christine felt hot tears rolling down her face…this is what she wanted, wasn't it? What they wanted; he was a murderer and rapist, not worthy of a second thought. He belonged in the henchman's noose; or, at the very least, in prison.

But something just did not seem right. Why did it hurt so much to see his beautiful, wounded eyes and hear the grief in his angelic voice? She pulled her eyes to his one last time and saw that they had gone cold and detached; it was as though he had purged his heart, soul, and mind of her.

She turned her back to him, not wanting to see his paradoxical face; one side horribly scarred and the other, breathtakingly handsome; what kind of life had he lived that had forced him into the shadows of solitude and loneliness? She never realized when she turned her back on him that she turned his heart to stone.

She didn't know him…not really. He had been in her life for six years, but she had known him as the Angel of Music. It was only a few short months ago that he had revealed himself to her as a man. She had immediately been drawn to his charisma.

She had only spent a few hours with him on a few occasions, and had begun to think of him as a friend…there were so many compelling and attractive attributes about him; she wondered if things might have been different if…

She stopped in front of the officer poised at the end of the bridge. She nodded her head to him, indicating that the Phantom had surrendered. She moved out of the way and immediately left the stage, as four policemen barreled down on him and violently subdued him. She may have betrayed him, but she did not have to watch him be taken away.

He made no sound as they beat him with rods and mocked him. One burly officer read the charges he was being arrested for;

"_**Monsieur Phantom,**_

"_**You are hereby charged with two counts of murder in the first degree; and five counts of rape with intent to do bodily harm.**_

"_**How do you plead?"**_

The phantom did not speak, he couldn't speak; he had been beaten into a semi-conscience state. His eyes rolled back in his head as they roughly hauled him down the steps, not caring about the blood seeping from his mouth and head.

They literally dropped him on the floor, bound his hands and feet and attached them to a rod. He was hanging like an animal beneath the rod with his head dropped back in his unconsciousness.

"_**Let is be so noted that the Phantom did not respond when asked how he pleaded…entered as 'guilty'." **_

This was the final notation the officer made as The Phantom of the Opera was hauled out of the theater to a robust applause from the audience. The players all stood in stunned silence as they watched the scene unfold before their eyes.

No one seemed to notice the group of dancing girls huddling in the corner, right next to where the Phantom had been captured. They all had doubtful looks on their faces and they were shaking their heads "no".

Raoul came down from the box seat, headed backstage, and ran toward Christine, pulling her into his embrace. She stiffened slightly, and Raoul pulled back.

"What is it?" he asked; concern in his voice.

Christine was crying; hot, searing tears that burned her skin. "Something does not seem right about this, Raoul." She watched as his face showed what he thought was the absurdity of her words.

"Don't patronize me…I may not know him that well, but he is my friend; I could see something in his eyes…" Christine spat, aggravation coming out in her words. "…his eyes did not have the look of a madman nor the look of a guilty man…they looked…wounded and hurt; like a man who had been betrayed." She finished.

"Christine, it had to be him…who else would have done those thing?" Raoul reiterated.

It was Christine's turn to roll her eyes at him, "I don't know Raoul; all I know is what I didn't see in his eyes."

"Christine, I understand that he taught you to sing…but he's not worthy of your affection or your concern." Raoul stated, unaware of how brutal those words sounded to her. "You're young and influenced easily…he's quite a bit older than you are…" Christine jerked her head up, not sure of what Raoul was accusing her or the Phantom of, "…whatever he did to you was not your fault…" Raoul announced; and holding his head proudly and nobly, he added, "…and I forgive you."

She narrowed her eyes at him and spoke menacingly, "Forgive me?" Christine had not seen this side of Raoul, and she did not like it, "Just what are you insinuating?"

Raoul, being headstrong and used to having his way, continued without concern, "I know you were down in his lair with him…I am sure, being the animal that he is, that he tried to violate you…he may have even succeeded...he is a rapist after all."

He stopped to rake his eyes over her frame, wondering what the Phantom might have done to her. Raoul wanted this woman for himself; and now, knowing that she most likely had been sullied, made him want her even more; virgins were such a bother.

Christine stood with determined vexation, looking at Raoul as if seeing him for the first time. Was this the same man who had promised undying devotion as he held her in his arms just hours before?

"Raoul…he never did anything to me…he never even touched me…and he's only three years older than you." Christine fumed, she had the overwhelming urge to smack the galling smirk off his handsome face…handsome yes, there was not doubt, but he lacked substance.

Raoul doubted that she was telling him the truth, after all, it was a shameful thing to give ones self to a man before marriage; not that it really mattered to the man, but parents certainly frowned upon it. But what his parents didn't know, wouldn't hurt them.

Christine shook her head and turned from Raoul, she had had enough of him for now. He reached out to grab her arm and she turned vehemently toward him, "Don't touch me!" her eyes were aflame with rage, "You have some nerve Raoul de Chagny…"

Christine ran away from him at that point. She could not bear the reality of what was going to happen to her teacher and angel. He had always been there for her in her times of need and had only asked one thing in return…her companionship.

She preferred to remember him, as he had always been to her…a mystery. He had taught her to use her voice as an instrument of beauty and passion; he had proven himself adept at just about every aspect of life; from science to literature. She had found in him a man whose intelligence intrigued her and whose attractiveness bewildered her.

In her presence, he had always been gentle and patient, teaching her music and voice. He had never touched her, not really. His hands were always gloved, except for tonight, during "The Point of No Return"; she had felt his warm hands for the first time as he grasped her throat and hands.

She could honestly tell herself now; she had been very attracted to him; perhaps even falling in love with him. He was handsome and intelligent, and he not only encouraged her to be better than what she was, but he inspired her to be.

Then, his temper had shown itself. She could forgive the morning she had torn the mask from his face, the morning she had discovered he was a man and not an angel; she had invaded his privacy with her curiosity. However, his obsessive hatred and anger toward Raoul and his murderous turn on Monsieur Bouquet…those things were not so easy to forgive…and then, she heard about the rapes.

She could do nothing but deny her growing love for the man, and, in the end, betray his trust.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

What a great response to my first chapter! Yeah!

Just a note to clarify; my Erik in this story is a dark, hurting, suicidal Erik. He will slowly become something better, but that is where he coming from.

I don't own these characters, just the backdrop in which I choose to display them.

Thank you for your reviews…keep 'em comin'!

THE DAWN THROUGH THE NIGHT

CHAPTER 2

_Prison_

He had been beaten profusely, reminiscent of the two years he'd spent in the gypsy camp. His head was splitting and he was seeing double; he probably had a concussion. He was having difficulty breathing from the ribs he knew were cracked.

They had thrown him in the dark, damp, cell and slammed the door shut; locking it with a key attached to a ring with hundreds of other keys. He was in shackles and his clothes were in rags. The place reeked of urine and feces and he had to fight the bile that kept rising in his throat.

He had hoped that his end would come with a little more dignity than this. He was going to die a criminal's death, alone and despised; ironic actually, since that is how he had lived his life. He smirked at the absurdity of it all.

He sat down on a makeshift chair and began writing on the piece of parchment they had granted him; they expected him to write his confession…'Sure, like that's going to happen.' he thought to himself.

He would not allow fear or dread to cause him to cower from the events that loomed in the future. He would hang, of this he was certain…but he didn't have to let them see him sweat nor was he a coward…he would face his fate with every ounce of dignity he had left.

It was obvious to him now…he was not meant to have such things as love and joy in his life. He had tried to obtain them, but they had slipped through his hands. He hadn't expected Christine to love him…that would have been asking the impossible; he had merely wanted her companionship and compassion…he would not have even pressed the physical side of a relationship, he had lived this long without the touch of a woman.

But it was not to be.

For as far back as he could remember the bitterness he felt toward the human race had been building to a boiling point. He had tried walking among them, working among them, and even falling in love with one of them…but they denied him the basic courtesies and rights that even animals were granted; the right to live and have a mate.

Now he found that the bitterness rested within him like an old familiar ache, caused by a wound that would never heal. Whom was he kidding? He longed…no yearned, to be a part of their world and captivate them with his music and architecture; but his time would never come.

Every moment he spent dwelling on the pain in his heart, he grew angrier and more bitter; at himself, more than anything. How could he have been such an ignorant fool and let his heart remain exposed for the breaking? He had felt her recoil from him; he had seen the fear in her eyes and seen her shiver with disgust.

What a fool he was.

He laid his tall frame down on the meager bed and tried to find a comfortable position. Just as he had settled, Brigitte Giry showed herself, having been in the shadows watching him for a few minutes. It was the first time she had come to him in years.

"Have you come to make sure I don't escape the hangman's noose, Brigitte?" The Phantom spat in ragged breaths; it was becoming increasingly hard to breathe and the blood and sweat running down his forehead was burning his eyes.

Brigitte cringed at the harshness she heard in his voice. She supposed that she had caused that animosity in him. She had put up a wall of indifference against him when certain events began occurring in the opera house.

She knew he had been raised in a gypsy camp and had no morals or knowledge of right and wrong…he had been treated like something worse than an animal. She never wanted to know anything else about him…that was all she needed; when she found him he had been filthy, and acted like a barbarian. He wouldn't eat; in fact, food seemed a stranger to him.

He had only been in the opera house about two years, when he ran away – Brigitte never knew why he ran…she thought back on it…and thought perhaps he resented being locked away beneath an opera house and told to never show himself or talk to anyone.

He did not come back for six years; when he was nineteen…he left as a boy, and returned as a man…a very bitter, angry, dangerous man. But then, Christine had entered his life and…

Brigitte did not wish to dwell on the pain he must be feeling at the rejection and humiliation Christine had put him through…she wanted to forget that he was human… tonight he was a monster…even if his eyes said otherwise.

She had thought she knew him; but then, about three years ago, the rapes began happening. According to the victims, the culprit always wore a mask and dressed in finery; the man before her fit that description perfectly.

Among the Phantom's many abilities, was his ability to hypnotize. Normally, he used his voice or eyes, but the molested girls were certain that their attacker had never spoken to them, and they could not see him; the act was always performed in the darkest recesses of the opera house. He possessed skills, which in the hands of a normal man would be wonderful gifts to the world, but in the hands of a lunatic…

"You're not going anywhere, Erik…they will see to that." Brigitte promised, her words dripping with righteous indignation and judgment.

Hearing his given name come from her lips, made tears come to eyes. He had almost forgotten he had a real name and the loathing he heard coming from her just strengthened his resolve.

"You're getting what you deserve…I thought you were smarter than this." Brigitte was always straightforward and to the point, she needed him to know that she was disappointed in him and the path he had chosen. "I never figured you for a rapist, let alone a murderer." She spat.

Brigitte thought back twenty years ago, to when she had rescued a starving, filthy child from the gypsies. He had wrapped his rope around the neck of his master and tried to strangle the life from him, but had only succeeded in knocking him out; he had not been physically strong enough at the age of nine to kill him; but mentally was a different thing altogether.

Erik hung his head, no words came forth; his doom was already sealed. Nothing he said or did would change how people perceived him or what they thought about him; he was guilty simply because they feared the way he looked…maybe his death would bring peace.

"Why are you here Brigitte?" he asked scathingly, his voice strained, pierced, and weak; but still beautiful.

Brigitte closed her eyes at the heavenly sound of his voice, even with the fury in his tone; he still held the power to control. She saw the way he held his body and knew that he was in excruciating pain; his voice was drowning in it and his face, though mostly hidden in the shadows, portrayed it.

They had beaten him severely, and compassion swelled within her. He had suffered ailments and beatings on many occasions…and not once had he asked her to console him or bind his wounds.

She could not let her natural female compassion weaken her resolve; she resisted and put on her most stoic face. She could not bring it upon herself to forgive him for the way he had ruined his life and terrified Christine.

"You know what the ironic thing is, Erik?" She questioned him, "I was going to tell you tonight that I no longer wanted to see you…you were to find someplace else to haunt and terrorize...you saved me the trouble." She kept all emotion out of her voice, she could not let him know how much it hurt, "I will not miss you…I had thought perhaps I would…but I won't." Her words cut him, clear to the bone, "Just know that I did care…once."

Erik drew his eyes up to her and held her gaze for a moment as her last words resounded in his mind. He watched her turn from him and leave…she had washed her hands of him…not that he blamed her. She had done all she could for him and he had given her nothing but heartaches and headaches, just as he had done his mother and everyone else he had encountered in his life.

Now, he truly was alone.

And death was laughing at him.

OOOOOOOOOOO

_Later that night, in the sleeping chambers of the girls_

"We have to go the magistrate…we all know what needs to be done." Penny stated. The other girls nodded in reply. "We have told our story to the patrons and nothing has been done to right the wrong." Her voice was full of anger and betrayal.

Lorraine spoke up, tears rolling down her face, "I am tired of reliving those events every time I have to retell the story…" She wiped her face with her sleeve, "…but if I must tell it again to make sure the truth comes out…than I will."

"Why couldn't those we told to begin with, have done what they were supposed to do in the first place…protect us and make sure he didn't do it again?" Alice asked; she was the youngest of them and the most vulnerable.

Janice sat quietly listening to the others, but she finally spoke, "We need Isabel and Frank also, they have to tell their stories," She reminded them, "or our statements can be dismissed."

Penny, the most outspoken of the group, took charge, "Janice, you and Delia go find Isabel and Frank and tell them what we are planning; let them know to meet us across the street, at the café Romano, tomorrow morning at 7:30 so we can make this right." She looked around the room, "We need to get a good night sleep, knowing that we are doing the right thing in the morning…and we can't let the current patron know what we are up to."

Lorraine smirked, "That won't be hard…he doesn't even acknowledge our existence unless we do something wrong."

Janice and Delia acknowledged that they knew what they were to do, and left the room in search of the others.

Alice sat in her bed and wept, this whole ordeal was something she wanted to put behind her. Every night, when she closed her eyes, she saw the events of that night eight months ago, replay in her head with vivid detail; she knew she would never fully recover from the trauma her body and mind had been through that night. The knowledge that the man who had done it to her would never do it again, helped her to rest easier.

Penny came over and sat down beside her, rocking her in her arms. They were all sisters now; sisters who had suffered at the whim of a serial rapist – a man they had all known and were expected to trust…but his eyes never allowed them to. He was evil…the eyes are the windows to the soul…and his were black and bottomless.

"I don't know that we will ever forget what happened to us Alice, but I can say that we will be here for each other in every way that we can…we have to use those events to become better people and not allow them to hinder us from becoming whom we were meant to be." Penny stated, while rubbing Alice's back.

The girl had closed her eyes and drifted to sleep under the soft, easy touch of Penny's hands, and the lulling sound of her voice. The opera house had become home to all of them; and now, after recent events, they finally felt safe in their home.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

The reviews are doing my heart good! Thank you.

I need to clarify a couple of things – again – my Erik has no need of a wig. He has a full, thick, wavy head of raven black hair (picture Gerry in Dracula 2000 or Timeline). His deformity is much like it is in the movie, except his eye is not affected. He is 6'3" tall with a quick, volatile temper, but an equally quick wit.

Christine is 5'8" tall, shapely but slender, with sable brown hair and chocolate eyes.

That said…enjoy.

THE DAWN THROUGH THE NIGHT

CHAPTER 3

_Erik's prison cell_

They had come in every two hours or so and administered more beatings; once, they had even whipped him with a leather whip – 30 lashes…and now, once again, the skin on his back was broken and bleeding…he did not bother to put his shirt back on.

Well, so much for looking the best he could for the show tomorrow. He had hoped to make a decent looking corpse, but they had even taken that from him. No plea for mercy or cry for help had escaped his lips, and his punishers gained reluctant respect for his resolve.

Thankfully, death would end the pain…then eternity would loom out in front of him, and he would have to face his Maker, and face the consequences for being what he was; an abomination; as the priest he was named after and his mother, used to call him.

He was to be hung in the courtyard of the prison at noon; and as the time grew closer and closer, Erik began to ponder the hereafter. Would he be immediately ushered into hell, or is there something that comes before; was there any mercy for one such as he?

He had made sure that the three people he had dared to care about would be taken care of. The boy would take good care of Christine, he felt sure of that; Brigitte and his mother both had accounts at the bank in their names. He had been putting money aside for years; they were both wealthy women.

The priest came to his cell about 7:45. Father Dupree was an elder kindly man, with friendly eyes and a fatherly smile. When he sat down in front of Erik, his hands were shaking.

Erik sighed and dropped his head, "You need not fear me, Father…I will not hurt you." He turned weary eyes to the man's face, "I do not need your services Father, I turned my back on God years ago." Erik stated with bitterness.

The priest raised his pale grey eyes to Erik's face and smiled, "You are Catholic…my child, I do not fear you…I shake continuously…a nervous condition…had it for years." He assured with another smile. His tone turned serious, but his eyes remained open and friendly, "God never turned His back on you…my son…remember that."

Erik was surprised by his answer and that surprise obviously showed in his eyes. The priest looked deep into Erik's eyes for what seemed like hours, scrutinizing him as if he were under a microscope.

"Why is it that you wish to die for crimes you did not commit?" Father Dupree asked, after a few minutes of complete silence.

Erik was shocked by the priest's observance. No one had ever taken the time to examine his soul as this man had just done.

"How do you know I'm not guilty?" Erik questioned, still hearing the hostility in his voice.

Father Dupree smiled knowingly, "Ah, but you are guilty of many things, I'm sure…we all are," he chided, "but you are not guilty of rape or murder." He lifted his eyes to heaven, "I have seen many men pass through this prison; I have examined many souls…but yours is blameless…not innocent, you understand - blameless; I sense in you a great deal of pain, resentment, and anger…but not violence and murder."

"I have no need of your God or His mercy…" Erik stated, dismissing the hole in his soul that only God could fill.

"Those who claim they do not need God are the very ones who need Him most." The priest said, unmoved by Erik's lack of respect.

Father Dupree stayed with Erik until about 10:25 am, just talking. It was a moment in time that, if Erik were allowed to live his life out to its natural end, he would never forget.

"Thank you for coming to see me Father, it meant a great deal." Erik stated, not knowing what else to say. He had not thanked many in his lifetime, but he felt this man deserved it. The church and everything it stood for had been a sore spot with him since he had a run in with an overzealous priest when he was younger.

His temper had always been volatile; from as far back as he could remember. It had gotten considerably worse as a young adult and in his early twenties; but at twenty-six, he was more mellow; the effort just didn't seem worth it any longer.

Now, he found that his temper was waning and he had no fight left in him for the things that were coming. His life had served no purpose; accept perhaps, to give amusement to those allowed to shape him into what he was.

"Go with God, my son." Father Dupree replied and started for the cell door.

Erik spoke softly and placed a restraining hand on his shoulder, "Father, will you see to it that Madam Brigitte Giry gets this letter, you will find her at the Opera Populaire, she resides there."

"Of course, my son..." Father Dupree promised and, after giving one last sorrowful look at Erik, he left.

Not five minutes went by before Erik heard voices headed down the stone hallway towards his cell. He recognized the voices as that of the warden and the magistrate, as well as several others.

They halted in front of his cell door, and Erik wondered why they had come so early to retrieve him for a noon hanging. 'They must have had a cancellation.' Erik thought wryly, a rare smile gracing his face as he enjoyed his own sense of humor.

They opened his cell door and stepped inside, positioning themselves in a straight line. The magistrate unrolled a piece of parchment paper and read the message contained within…

"Monsieur Phantom…" the magistrate looked at the shrouded figure, "…do you have a given, baptized name?"

Erik knew his name; he had always known his name. He had carried it through the years like a well-kept secret, only giving Brigitte his first name…and nothing more. He had left that identity behind, hoping to create a new one…but now, it haunted him in his last hours.

"Destler; my full name is Erik Christoph Destler." Erik stated, after a few moments of silent contemplation. When he had fled the home of his mother at the age of nine, he had hoped to never hear that name again.

"Erik Christoph Destler, by order of the magistrate of the City of Paris, you are hereby… released from custody." The magistrate stood in front of the cell door reading the announcement. He finished and then looked into the shadow covering Erik's form.

Erik's head had jerked up at the announcement. Released from custody? What was going on here? This had to be some sort of trick. They must have made a huge mistake.

"You are free to go." The man said again, more loudly. The magistrate, once again, looked into the dark corner of the cell where Erik stood, slumped against the wall.

"I spent the greater part of the morning listening to the testimonies of five ballet girls, a stage hand, and the head maid." The man stated, trying to make Erik understand that he was a free man.

"The girls were all raped over a period of three years." The man began, "They did not remember all the details at first; but as time passes, the memory often opens up and allows details to be remembered that had been locked away."

Erik knew all of this. What did it have to do with him?

"They gave us a description of the man who attacked them, the same description they had given the former patron of the Opera Populaire; and, six months ago, they gave the same description to the new patron, hoping he would do what the first one had not." The man shook his head at the dishonesty he found in many people, it was a shame…especially when the innocent suffered because of their cowardice.

"I also heard the testimony of a stage hand who witnessed the events surrounding the death of Monsieur Bouquet," the magistrate squinted his eyes, trying to see Erik more clearly, "he said he witnessed Monsieur Bouquet draw a gun and try to shoot you…that was when you put the noose around his neck and hung him."

Erik did not flinch as the man described perfectly the events of that night. He was stunned that the truth had been told and he was being released. Why would anyone go to the trouble of saving him?

"The head maid came forward with the disguise the rapist wore. The clothes and mask were designed to fool the inexperienced eye into thinking he was you…but the man was far shorter, far more portly and far less refined than you are." The quietness coming from the shadows indicated to the magistrate that Erik had no idea of whom he spoke.

"Monsieur Destler, Joseph Bouquet was the rapist and he had been framing you for his crimes; threatening the women, and everyone else, into thinking he was you." The man laughed, humorlessly, "I suppose he did not think the women would pay any attention to details, just the obvious…the mask and clothing."

Erik had known something was up, but he had not known the depths to which the Bouquet man had gone. The man had tried to eliminate Erik on several occasions, but had been unsuccessful in his attempts; Erik was a genius, after all.

Erik bent down painfully, and retrieved his shirt, still not putting it over his torn flesh. He would have to move into the light and these men would see him in all his glory; but he supposed it was too late for all that.

The form of a tall, lithe man moved out of the shadows and into the dim light of the cell. Although he had been beaten unmercifully, he still held his body in a regal stance. The warden was shocked at the amount of blood that covered his head and body and his clothing was saturated in it.

"Get this man a doctor, and I want the names of all who participated in his beating…it was uncalled for." The warden demanded. "And get those shackles off him."

Erik shook his head, "I don't want or need a doctor…I will be fine." The warden furrowed his brow and Erik continued, "Trust me, I have recovered from worse."

The magistrate handed an object to the warden and the warden brought it to Erik…it was his mask. Erik took it from the hand of the warden and placed it securely and protectively over his scarred and bleeding face as the guard unlocked his shackles and released him.

Erik diligently moved forward, ignoring the pain that coursed through his body. His breathing was labored and strained, but he managed to stand up straight, walk out of the cell door, down the long corridor, and out the front doors of the prison.

The men stood aghast at the raw flesh that hung from his back because of the whipping; and the amount of blood that he had lost. They could not believe the agony he must have endured; and yet, he had never made a sound.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Three hours later, the warden and executioner stood in front of the large crowd and the warden read the following;

"_**Due to the testimonies of several individuals, the charges against Erik Christoph Destler, otherwise known as The Phantom of the Opera, have been rescinded."**_

The warden paused, allowing the crowd to whisper amongst themselves.

"_**The true criminal involved in these crimes has already been punished for his crimes at the hand of Monsieur Destler; the man who killed him in self defense, as witnessed by three stage hands, one of whom came forward with a testimony."**_

The crowd, once again, mulled around and chatted.

"**_Let it be forever noted and sealed, that Monsieur Joseph Pierre Bouquet committed five counts of rape with intent to do bodily harm over the course of three years, the duration of his employment with the Opera Populaire."_**

By the time noon had rolled around and the crowd had gathered for the public execution; and before the warden read the announcement…a lair had been straightened and cleaned, the money gathered in a leather satchel; Nemesis, the black stallion was taken, and a lone rider rode into the unforgiving scorch of the sun…Erik was gone.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Gone?" The voice demanded, "What do you mean…gone?" Brigitte was beside herself with grief and despair. What had she done? She was such a fool!

She had heard of his release and the testimonies of those whose words had set him free. She buried her head in her hands and wept as the truth revealed itself in painful strains. She had condemned him and left him to die, for crimes he never committed…and he hadn't said a word in his defense.

The magistrate noted her distress and tried to calm her down, "He was a free man; we let him go after he refused medical attention." Brigitte felt the world closing in on her; she had to find him. "He had cracked ribs and deep wounds on his head and arms; he needed serious attention."

She cried, "Did he say where he was going?

"No, madam, he did not." He retorted. "He had also received 30 lashes from a guard who has since been reprimanded and relieved of duty." The magistrate relayed to Brigitte, "His back was raw and bleeding when he left." His eyes spoke volumes, "I fear that infection may have set in."

Brigitte tried to rid her mind of the image of Erik trying to treat his own wounds and recover from this incident; he would not succeed.

"How long ago was this?" She asked, not wanting to leave until she found out more information.

The magistrate sighed and hung his head, "It was about 3 ½ hours ago." Was all he said; then he walked away.

Brigitte knew, that in 3 ½ hours, Erik had done exactly what she had told him to do…disappeared. She hung her head and cried bitter tears of regret. For the past three years, she had shunned him and pushed him away; never once asking him what was really happening.

He had no doubt thought she had despised his features and decided he was too repulsive to bother with. The same thing his mother had done for the first nine years of his life; just as the gypsies had done for the next two years after that; and just as Christine had done.

What a fool she was.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

I am loving all the wonderful reviews! I have picked up some new readers, or at least readers that review.

Terpsichore314 – Thank you for your kind reviews, I am glad you are enjoying my story.

SassyLassy – This is an Erik/Christine pairing, now you just have to wait and see how I bring them together.

Mini Nicka – I am glad that you are reading and enjoying. It is several more chapters before the companion comes into the picture. Patience my young Padawan.

Gerardphantomhot – I do love your name! I have seen just about all of Gerry's movies. There is no one like him and I am completely devoted to him. His portrayal of Erik was stupendous. Thanks for reading!

Twinkle22 – Nice to have you on board. I want to thank you for reviewing.

Okibi Chan – I've only heard from you once, but I hope you are still out there reading!

And to my faithful readers…Mlle.Fox, Pertie, Passed Over, and OperaLover…YOU ARE THE AIR THAT I BREATHE!

Enjoy!

THE DAWN THROUGH THE NIGHT

_**Part 1 - The Velvet Chains that Bind Us, Chapters 4 - 7**_

CHAPTER 4

_Two months later_

_Brigitte_

The absence of the Phantom was felt profoundly by those at the opera house. His music and writing talents had been an intricate part of the functioning of the opera house. He had designed costumes and sets and left the designs anonymously for that department to find.

His protective and foreboding presence had prevented infiltration from unsavory sorts who now bombarded the premises and caused numerous problems.

They came to realize that most of the music had been written by him, even though he would just leave it lying around for the director, managers, or patron to find and put to good use.

Everyone talked openly about the night of the arrest and how he had yielded without putting up a fight; surrendered for crimes he had not committed. Without him, the opera house was failing.

There wasn't a day that went by that Brigitte did not regret the last words she had said to him. 'I was such a fool.' she said to herself with a solitary tear lingering on her cheek.

She had seen the pain he was in before he was released and knew that he had suffered many injuries at the hands of the guards; injuries that she knew had not been treated and allowed to heal. She did not even know if he was alive or dead.

She had promised him that she would not miss him…but she had lied. Knowing he was innocent made what she had done…unbearable. She missed everything about him. He was the sole reason she had never married…no man compared to him; no man could ever take his place in her heart.

Her final words to him had been spoken from a hurt and spiteful heart, she knew that now; but they had also been spoken to purposefully cause him pain. As if he hadn't experienced enough pain in his life, she had felt compelled to add to it.

A priest had come by about a week after Erik left and handed her a letter that he had written in prison, just before he was to be hung. She hadn't had the courage to read it yet. She went to the cupboard in her quarters and pulled it out. Swallowing hard, shedding tears, and unfolding the note with trembling hands, she saw his sweeping handwriting, graceful and elegant, just like the man himself…

_**June 1, 1872**_

_**Dearest Brigitte;**_

_**I'm tired. Tired of fighting the darkness that has chased me all my days. I find I no longer have the desire to plead my case. I will succumb to the will of the public, and those who have known me. Maybe, I'll find peace at last.**_

_**My hideous excuse for a life will soon end, and my loathsome, putrid, carcass will rot in hell; but I find comfort in knowing that those I ventured to care about in life, will be taken care of.**_

_**Christine found the happiness that I so longed to give her in the arms of another…but I know she will be taken care of, and want for nothing; I wish her joy and happiness.**_

_**My mother, Madeline Destler, has a bank account in her name at Paris First Bank and Trust. I have been putting money away for years. Please contact her and let her know she free of me, at last. She lives somewhere in La Mans, France.**_

_**You. I have also left a bank account at Paris First Bank and Trust in your name. I have been putting money in it for as long as I have my mothers account. You may do what you wish with it.**_

_**I know you are wondering where you went wrong in teaching me after rescuing me from the gypsies; rest assured, not all is at it appears. Perhaps some day you will know the truth; until then, trust your heart.**_

**_You told me you would not miss me, and I am sure that is the case…but I shall miss you. Too long, I suppressed the affection I had for Christine, my mother, and you…I feared it – with every beat my black heart - I feared the pain, regret, and disillusionment that came with showing my softer side; now all I can do is face my Maker and the consequences He will no doubt cast upon me._**

_**All three of you have made it quite clear that my existence is contrary to your will; and still my heart yearns for you.**_

_**If possible, during a moment of peace…remember me.**_

_**Erik Christoph Destler**_

The letter floated to the ground as Brigitte hung her head and wept. Her heart was mourning for the loss of a man she had betrayed and abandoned; thinking him a monster, like everyone else. She wept because she knew she had loved him all these years, but his genius and eccentric ways terrified her.

He had spoken little of the details of his existence before the age of eleven. She had taken him from the gypsies at that age, and had assumed he had been with them for years. He had been cold and aloof most of the time, but she had witnessed sporadic moments of tenderness, and glimpses of the man he had the potential to be.

A representative of the bank came to her home about three months later, presenting her with the details of the account Erik had established in her name.

"Monsieur Destler left instructions that you were to be informed of the account and all proceeds are to be signed over to you…we also need a…" the young man looked at his paperwork, "…Madam Madeline Destler to come by the bank and do the same."

Brigitte had promised to contact Ms. Destler and inform her of her required presence. The bank representative had assured her that all was in order and would be handled with complete confidentiality and scrutiny.

She had not only lost Erik, but Brigitte has lost the young girl who had become like a daughter to her. Christine had left with Raoul the night of _Don Juan_, and had not informed Brigitte of her intended destination or plans.

Brigitte had read of the wedding in the paper, uncertain as to why Christine had not invited her. They had often spoken of the kind of wedding Christine wanted, but that was always a topic of discussion among girls and women.

Her letters were deliberate and short, not at all like Christine; but Brigitte knew she must be preoccupied with all the demands of being the wife of a nobleman. She must not have cared about Erik as much as Brigitte had thought she had; she had not even mentioned Erik's release or disappearance.

She lifted a prayer to heaven on behalf of Erik, asking that he be granted the life he had never had, no matter where he was; he deserved to finally have joy and love; but she would not give up looking for him.

OOOOOOOOOO

And look she did…for the next three years. She hired private detective after private detective to trace his steps starting with the day that he left, but he had covered his trail. Exactly what he had been an expert at; if Erik did not wish to be found, he would not be found.

The opera house barely survived the months following his disappearance. He had been more involved than anyone had ever thought. The music and shows were not the quality they had once been, and the managers no longer had Erik's expert opinion in casting and other areas.

They had approached Brigitte on several occasions and asked that she bring him back. She had to tell them on every occasion that she did not know where he was. Eventually, they stopped asking.

Three years and eleven months after Erik Destler left Paris, the Opera Populaire closed its doors after its final performance. Madam Giry bid farewell to the only home she had known for the last thirty-five years.

_Three years and nine months after that fateful night, March 16, 1876._

_Christine's story_

In a cold, beautifully decorated room, Christine de Chagny sat at her vanity table combing her waste-length hair methodically…just as she did yesterday morning, and every morning before that, for the past three and a half years.

The reflection staring back at her from the mirror did not tell any lies. She had been duped into thinking that life was going to be so much better with Raoul…he worshiped the ground she walked on…he loved her more than he could express - all were little white lies he had said to get her to agree to marry him.

He had married her and then put her on a shelf and ignored her. The only time they spent together was in the marriage bed…every night. He demanded she give and she did, detached and distant, she had been a virgin in his arms…but he had cared little. If this was all there was to "making love", what was the big fuss all about? She did not find it all pleasant.

She found her body did not react to him as it did with her Angel. Strange yearnings and deep aching had accompanied her every time she was in his presence. She had not known him as a man; not really…but as an angel and teacher, he had been patient and kind; showing her the limitless beauty her voice possessed.

He had been dark and mysterious; dangerously handsome and eerily intelligent; she had been too young to realize her peculiar attraction to him was a binding, sensual rope that pulled her to him and left her empty without him – and now, he was gone.

Raoul's family despised her, and did all that they could to make her life miserable. She could have tolerated this, if Raoul had been there for moral support; but the times they had been in the presence of his family and they had started in on her, he had joined in and even laughed at the comments they had made; he had expected her to know it was all in "good fun".

Ten months, that's all it had taken. Ten short months after their wedding vows, she had learned that her husband was not the man she had thought him to be. He had courted her with kind words of assurance and love, leading her to believe she was all he wanted…now, she had no tears to shed and her heart was as cold and lifeless as a stone.

In three years of marriage, she had made no friends, only acquaintances; and they were titled ladies whose husbands treated them the same way Raoul treated her. They resented her for marrying into their status, and they did not hide their resentment.

Christine had heard them talking in open conversation about the women their husbands cheated on them with; they knew…and they cared not. In fact, most of them had lovers on the side…Christine was appalled at the aristocracies obvious lack of morals.

Christine lifted empty eyes to her husband as he strolled into the room. He bent over her and kissed the top of her head. His clammy hands were caressing her upper arms and Christine could not help the shiver that ran up her spine…Raoul mistook it for a shiver of pleasure and increased his caresses to include the swell of her breasts and curve of her hips.

Methodically, just like every night preceding this one, they copulated in a ritualistic manner, which ended with Raoul pouring his seed into her and Christine feeling even more empty than she had when they started.

Was this what she wanted for the rest of her life? Christine knew what the answer was to that question.

So, it was no surprise when two months later, May 27, 1876, she sat with her bags packed and her copy of the divorce papers in front of her. The "family" had decided that it was for the best, and oddly enough, Christine had agreed.

Her divorce would be a quiet affair; the family would take care of all the details. Raoul was apologetic, but relieved. She watched as her few belongings were loaded into the carriage, Raoul kissed her cheek before waving the driver on his way…and three years and eleven months of her life were wiped away.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Hello there! Sorry, but Erik will not appear for a couple of more chapter, I'm building the background. I hope you are enjoying the journey.

I have borrowed a few elements from Susan Kay and embellished on Erik's mother's background. I must say "thank you" to Susan Kay for her wonderful story and to Gaston Leroux for the wonderful characters…but I don't find his Phantom believable.

The man could not have been the breathtaking singer he was supposed to be without a nose. The nose is an important, virtually irreplaceable, part of the singers ability. Being a singer myself, I am fully aware of this. Nor do I like an ugly phantom; that is merely my preference.

There are a few original characters that are my creation and the plot is mine, but everything else was borrowed.

Not much longer until Erik…I promise.

Enjoy!

THE DAWN THROUGH THE NIGHT

_**Part 1**_

CHAPTER 5

_December 12, 1874 – June 1, 1876_

_Madeline_

Her hands visibly trembled as she heard the contents of the letter. After all these years of searching for her son and coming up empty handed, a letter from a stranger fans the embers which she had long thought extinguished. Erik was alive…or at least he had been, 2 ½ years ago.

The writer stated in the letter that she had a great deal of trouble locating her, but was finally able to gain an address after hiring a private detective.

The contents of the letter were disturbing enough without the guilt of the past years mocking her with every word. He had been arrested for crimes he was later found to be innocent of…and released…but by the time this was found out, he had disappeared.

The letter was sent by a Madam Giry…an apparent friend of Erik's, she spoke about him as if she had known him for some time. What was not said was as pronounced and loud as what was said. He had been wronged by everyone he knew, and now none of them could find him.

The nurse walked in and immediately went to her patients side. "Now Madam, you know you are not supposed to be under any undue stress…your doctor said you are not to be disturbed." The nurse said; but the eyes that looked up at her were clear and alert.

"He's alive Sarah…my son is alive." Madeline exclaimed, hope flickering behind her tortured eyes, once again.

Sarah sat down in the chair next to Madeline, "You never told me you had a son."

Madeline smiled a bitter smile, "For years, I wanted to forget I had a son…but then…I woke up out of the haze I had been in…just in time to discover he had left me."

She spent the next couple of hours relaying to Sarah the sad account of Erik's birth and childhood; if it could be called that. She left out nothing, and the disgusted look that Sarah gave her, only added to her shame.

"I have tried for the past twenty years to locate him…Étienne pretended to be interested in finding Erik also…but…" her voice trailed off in a tone of deep, ripping abhorrence.

Étienne had insisted they marry after Erik had run off…saying that it would help her cope with his betrayal…but several years, and another drug addiction later…Madeline had found out that the man who had professed undying love for her, was not the man she had fallen in love with.

Étienne had dark secrets, secrets that threatened his life and the life of those he loved…or said he loved. He was a doctor, but he was a crooked doctor. Madeline had always wondered where he got his money…and one tragic night, she found out.

He was a body snatcher, a common thief. He stole bodies out of graves and sold them to scientists for extremely large amounts of money. The scientists experimented on these bodies…for the sake of "science", and Étienne got rich.

Once he found out that Madeline knew his secret, he began drugging her. These were the same drugs she had been addicted to while pregnant; the same drugs that had robbed her child of the right side of his face.

These drugs caused hallucinations and other health problems. This went on for several years…until the law finally caught him.

Thankfully, Madeline was not involved, and she was put under the care of an honest and kind doctor. He did his best to reverse the damage done by Étienne. She had to be taught to walk and talk again, such was the damage done by the drugs.

That had been a couple of years ago, and she was making great progress. Étienne was spending the next sixty years behind bars, deep in the caverns of the jail…so she felt certain she was safe from his manipulative and dangerous ways.

"You have every right to look at me that way Sarah…I was unfit to be a mother…" Her eyes misted over and the pain of her failure with Erik showed in every part of her face, "…I allowed myself to become an addict…even after my husband begged me to stop.

"I was ill prepared for the damage I caused my unborn child, and for the innate intelligence he possessed." Madeline reflected, with distant eyes.

Madeline drifted back in time, thinking about her baby boy and the inhuman intelligence he possessed. She had feared him…a tiny, black-haired baby; and she had never let him forget it.

She had forced him to wear a mask, unable to bear the sight of the scars she had caused. His presence was a constant reminder of her failure to him and to her husband. The drug had warped her mind, causing her to despise the sight of her own child, and treat him like…something; anything but human.

The right side of his face was horribly deformed; his bone structure was malformed and his skin was paper-thin with the blood vessels easily seen through the translucent membrane. His lips were far fuller than was normal and oddly shaped for such a small face; they obviously were deformed also.

The left side had been left untouched, as were his eyes. But Madeline had been unable to focus her attention on the perfection of his left side, the heavenly beauty of his deep, green eyes, or the full, soft covering of raven hair that rested atop his tiny head.

For the first several months of his life, she barely acknowledged him at all; if it had not been for Marie, her maid and trusted friend…she would have never spoken to him. She thought to not feed him, hoping he would starve to death and save her the trouble of abandoning him; but Marie would not have it.

She never held him or coddled him; choosing, instead, to ignore his existence. As he grew, that effort proved harder and harder; his genius mind required discipline and instruction beyond her capabilities and she had hired many to try, but none succeeded.

He resorted to tricks of the mind and hand to amuse himself, and Madeline was often the unsuspecting dupe in his one-man show. Magic fascinated him, as did anything mechanical or musical; and he excelled at all.

She had said she hated him; yelled it into his face, and watched, as what was left of his humanity, disappeared in his slumped shoulders and depressed features. She threatened to have him admitted into an asylum for those with intelligence beyond their human ability to control and contain; those who were a danger to themselves and others.

She drove him away. When he left, he left no indication that he had ever been there. His clothes, his drawings, his sketches, his brilliant architectural designs: Everything he had personally designed or touched…was gone with him…it was as though he never existed.

Etienne had taken over after Erik left, pretended to be weaning her off the drug; but instead, he was just giving her a weaker version of it. She became conscious enough to realize all that she had done and the love she had for her son became an echo in her heart, as her "doting husband" helped her cope.

"Think what you must of me Sarah, but I need your help in finding this woman, Brigitte Giry." Madeline begged. "I must try and right the wrongs I have done."

It took her several months to recuperate enough to travel, sever what ties she had in Le Mans, and move her entire house to Paris. She would find this Madam Giry and learn about the son she had never really known…and perhaps together, they could find him and bring him home.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

_Three months later, September 3, 1876_

Sarah wheeled Madeline out onto the porch of her new house in Paris. She had not been here in years, and found that she loved it as much as she had all those years ago. She had gone to the bank and found that Erik had left her over 500 thousand francs; more money than she had ever hoped to have; but she left it there…it was Erik's, and she intended to return it to him.

She had had no luck in locating this Madam Giry. The Opera Populaire had closed its doors just weeks before, and all the people involved had sought other employment in the city. She would continue to ask around and keep her eyes open for any sign of the woman.

Then, as fate would have it, one day about six months later, she opened the paper and read the following announcement:

_**Madam Giry's School of Dance**_

_**Now open and accepting new students**_

_**Inquire at 215 Cavalier Ave, Paris**_

_**Madam Brigitte Giry, former Prima Ballerina at the Opera Populaire; owner, operator, and instructor**_

She gathered her parasol and gloves, called for Sarah and a carriage, and they made their way toward the address in the paper. She had been patient with her need to find this Madam Giry, and had hoped and prayed an opportunity would present itself, and it had.

She would find a way to give back to Erik all that she had taken from him, mainly her love and support. He had been everything a mother could possibly want, and she had shunned him because of something he had no control over.

He had never cried, except when hungry. He had been clean and orderly, never leaving anything out of its place. He had slept soundly and quietly. He was brilliant, articulate, gentle, and artistic; what more could a mother ask for in a son? And yet, she had shunned him.

Madeline stepped out of the carriage and surveyed the building in front of her. It was an old abandoned schoolhouse, which had been renovated, and it looked warm and inviting. The sign in the front verified that she was indeed at the correct address, so she paid the driver, Sarah put her in the wheelchair, and they headed up the sidewalk toward the two women chatting in front of the door.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

One chapter closer to Erik…be patient…

Love the reviews…

THE DAWN THROUGH THE NIGHT

_**Part 1**_

CHAPTER 6

_May, 1876 – June, 1876_

_Christine and Brigitte meet again._

When Christine had left the de Chagny estate, she had no idea where she was going. The only place she was familiar with was the Opera Populaire, but the memories it held were still painful and searing, even after almost four years.

Paris held no light for her anymore, the loss of her angel and teacher had robbed her of any joy that may have remained in Paris. He had possessed the antidote to the drudge that life had become; and he was gone, hung four years ago for crimes she now knew, he had no way of controlling. He had known no better than what life had taught him.

The reality that he had died without ever knowing the love of a woman ripped her soul to its depth. He had only known violence, hatred, pain, and anger; how could anyone expect him to understand compassion, forgiveness, gentleness, and love.

His genius, his voice, his music – all gone…never to be heard or seen again; the longing she had seen in his beautiful green eyes, and tragic paradox of his handsome features…he had been the only one of his kind…and he was gone.

Four years of growing up had shown her the true depths of her feelings for him. She knew now that she had admired him, feared him; she had been attracted to him on both a mental and physical plane. He was lustful, passionate, and out of control and he both frightened and excited her.

She had barely known the man…but what she had known made her even more certain that, if she had been allowed to spend more time with him, she would have loved him for a lifetime, despite his shortcomings.

As it was, she would never be free of him. He possessed her mind and soul with his dancing, soulful eyes, and self-doubting, hidden smile. His voice reverberated in her mind every time she lay down to rest.

The lull of the carriage eventually rocked her to sleep and she blissfully slept until the carriage pulled up in front of the Opera Populaire. She needed to find Brigitte and possibly stay with her until she got on her feet.

The de Changy family had sent her away with little money and no security; she did not even have the option of keeping her married name. She had shamed them by not conceiving a child within the first six months of marriage; something she was thankful for, now that the marriage had failed. Although, it was not from lack of trying on Raoul's part, he had taken her every night, whether she wanted it or not; up until the night he handed her the divorce papers.

She instructed the carriage driver to place her few belongings inside the main entrance of the opera house, and she would see to them from there. Once she entered the building, it was like turning back the calendar.

The former grandness seemed to have dissipated, leaving a dullness that sent shivers up her spine. It was as though the building was mourning the loss of its former maestro, and nothing would comfort its grieving.

She went through the main lobby doors and entered the theater. The old smell of make-up, resin, paint, and leather came wafting back to her and she smiled; that smell gave her a feeling of belonging that she hadn't felt in years.

There were a few people shuffling about on the stage as she approached, none of them were Brigitte. Christine walked up the side steps toward one of the ballerinas.

"Excuse me, but could you tell me where Brigitte Giry is?" she asked with authority.

The young girl looked at her and smiled, not certain whether she should tell this complete stranger where her teacher and friend was. She finally smiled and answered.

"She is back stage, to the right, talking to the managers." She replied. Christine thanked her and went back stage.

The normal hustle and bustle of the theater was in full swing, but there did not seem to be the normal enthusiasm that had once been evident on the faces of those involved. The attitudes and general preparation of the players seemed less determined and professional.

Christine saw Madam Giry and started toward her. The woman looked to have not aged at all, which perturbed Christine, as she had aged a great deal in the almost four years she had been gone.

Brigitte looked away from the manager and caught sight of Christine headed toward her. Her face lit up and she literally ran to greet her.

After the initial hugging was over, Madam Giry could not help the tears that coated her face. She had not cried for some time, and they were cleansing tears for a soul that was turning to stone.

"Christine, you've grown up…you look as beautiful as a woman as you did as a child." Brigitte commented with a smile.

Christine laughed and hugged the older woman once again. "Nonsense, I look a frightful mess."

Brigitte pulled back from her and examined her from head to toe. The only difference she saw was the lack of life in Christine's eyes. What happened to that glow that had always been present on her beautiful face?

"How long are you here for? Where is Raoul?" Brigitte asked, curious as to why he had not come in.

Christine glanced down at the floor, avoiding eye contact. "Can we go somewhere and talk?" She asked, quietly. "Some place private."

"Of course." Madam Giry replied, concern in her tone.

They left the opera house and proceeded up the sidewalk toward a small café nestled in the corner of the street.

Madam Giry bought them both a cup of coffee and a pastry, and they sat down at a table in the back of the dining room.

After several minutes of silence, Madam Giry asked, "What is wrong Christine…the life is gone from your eyes."

Christine smiled sadly and began the tragic story of the last three years of her life. There were no tears, as she had shed them many months ago when she realized that she and she alone was responsible for the death of her angel and mentor, the failure of a marriage that should have never taken place, and the shattered pieces of her heart that echoed of a lost love.

"Where is his grave, Brigitte…I must be near him." Christine mourned, tears finally flowing.

Brigitte creased her brow, "Raoul never told you?"

Christine cocked her head sideways and lowered her eyes, "What should he have told me?"

Brigitte shook her head and lowered it, "Everything we assumed about him that night were wrong…he wasn't guilty of murder or rape." Brigitte said.

Christine's chin began to quiver, as she held back her tears; she listened to every word Brigitte was saying

"Joseph Bouquet not only committed the rapes, he drew a gun on the Phantom before he was hung; it was self defense." Brigitte stated, hope filling the room with each word she spoke.

"All the wasted years…" Christine choked, "Why did he not say a word?" She could not stop her body from quivering and her voice from wavering.

"The only explanation I can come up with, is that he felt it would make no difference..." Brigitte stated, "…he knew we would not have listened to him."

Brigitte's voice cracked from the pent up emotion, "I went to his prison cell the night before he was due to be hung, and told him I would not miss him and that I was going to tell him to leave and never come back."

Christine looked up into the older woman's tearing eyes, "Did Raoul tell you anything about Erik?" Brigitte asked.

"Erik?" Christine repeated, as if it were a prayer. "Is that his name?"

Brigitte laughed lightly, "Yes, that's his name."

"No, he never told me anything about him…nothing at all." Christine said, her annoyance at Raoul growing more and more with each passing moment.

Brigitte and Christine sat for hours talking about the past that Christine knew nothing about, the testimonies that sat him free, and the years that Brigitte had been searching for him.

"I cannot find him…" Brigitte cried, "…he had attempted suicide in the past…I only pray…" She looked at Christine with remorse, "His mother is still living…he never spoke of her."

Christine barely heard about the mother, her face had gone deathly pale, "Suicide?" Her hand went to her mouth to catch her gasp, "I never knew…how?"

Brigitte skimmed over the details of Erik's three attempted suicides. "The first two times were in Persia and were by poisoning: he did things in Persia that he was very ashamed of, even though he was as much a victim as anyone; the third time was shortly after he got back in Paris – he was a much darker man by this point." Brigitte's eyes had grown distant and mellowed. "He started a fight with a nobleman simply to be issued a challenge; he allowed himself to be run through with the sword, but he survived because of the doctor I brought in to care for him."

Brigitte smiled sadly at the memory of the man she had known.

"Erik did not speak to me for weeks after that…he despises doctors." Brigitte chuckled quietly, remembering the incident as if it happened yesterday. "When he did speak to me again, he thanked me for saving his 'worthless' hide, as he called it."

Christine was terrified that he would try again.

"Now that I know he is alive, I must find him…and see what it is I feel for him." Christine explained.

"We all betrayed him Christine…he may not want anything to do with us." Brigitte added.

Christine knew this, but was unwilling to accept it. She had to believe that Erik still held fond feelings for her.

Over the next couple of weeks, they waited for word from the detectives that Erik had been found; but no word came.

One month after Christine arrived at the Opera Populaire, she began to suspect that something was just not right.

She had her suspicions confirmed and approached Brigitte about her discovery.

"Brigitte, things just got a bit more complicated…" Christine stated, as she sat in Madam Giry's kitchen, drinking tea.

Brigitte looked up at her with a puzzled look in her eyes, "Why is that, Christine?"

Christine stood up and walked over to the older woman, her mother in every way except blood, "I'm pregnant."

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

Erik is in the next chapter, so you can stop holding your breath.

Love the reviews…

THE DAWN THROUGH THE NIGHT

_**Part 1**_

CHAPTER 7

_Several months later…_

The Opera Populaire had closed its doors for good, one month after Christine arrived; Madam Giry had taken the money that Erik had left her and used it to support Christine and her while they made some decisions.

Raoul had washed his hands of her, and made sure she knew to never contact him. He had to move on and get his life back where it belonged. Christine had been a great "experience", but he could not continue to associate with her.

Christine felt no remorse at not telling Raoul about her pregnancy. She progressed well through the gestational phases and on January 25, 1877, Jean Luc Daae (pronounced, John Luke) arrived in the world.

Brigitte had invested some money in a building and planned to open a school of dance. IT was an idea she had been wrestling with for a couple of years, ever since the Opera Populaire had started going down hill. She had already started the process when Christine came back into her life.

"Christine, you know you and Jean Luc can stay with me as long as you need to…you're like a daughter to me." Madam Giry offered.

Christine was nursing Jean Luc and looked up from her infant son, "I know Brigitte, and I truly appreciate it." Christine said, thankful for the offer. "I hope to be able to get a job when Jean Luc is older; I want to make my own way."

She lovingly caressed her sons face with her eyes. Thankfully, he didn't resemble Raoul at all. He had Christine's features and dark, wavy hair. His brown eyes sparkled with merriment as his mother played with his nose and fingers; it was amazing how much she loved him, even though Raoul held no special place in her heart anymore.

Brigitte's heart wrenched at the sight before her. She had never married, never had children; it was a regret she carried heavily. A part of her was deeply in love with Erik, even though he was ten years her junior. He was eccentric and fascinatingly attractive. Everything about him screamed passion and sensuality.

Brigitte buried her creativity and intelligence into her business and found that she enjoyed working the numbers and making decisions concerning the every day functions of the business.

Six months after Jean Luc was born, the doors of _Madam Giry's School of Dance_ opened for the first time, with six enrolled students.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

_Three Women and a Common Cause_

_March 18, 1877_

Madeline stood up out of the wheelchair, and walked on shaky legs down the sidewalk toward the two women, noticing that the younger of the two held an infant in her arms.

Madam Giry looked over at the woman and smiled, "May I help you?"

Madeline, naturally reserved, did not smile back; but her eyes were soft and unthreatening, "I am looking for Madam Brigitte Giry."

Brigitte had the uncanny feeling that she knew this woman from somewhere, but could not put her finger on it. "I am Brigitte Giry." She stated, "This is Madam Christine Daae, and her son Jean Luc." She offered, as she indicated Christine with a nod.

Madeline finally smiled, a gesture that lit up her features and turned back the clock…she looked ten years younger. Brigitte noticed how striking the woman was, with her black hair and noble features. She was a slender woman, but rather tall. She carried herself with regal elegance and something in her eyes was very familiar.

"Allow me to introduce myself," her eyes reached Brigitte's, and she could have sworn she saw uncertainty in their hazel depths. "I am Madeline Destler…Erik's mother."

Both women stood in complete awe, as Madeline looked from one to the other. Finally, Brigitte indicated for them to enter the building. Madeline followed, dismissing Sarah to the carriage.

"I know that you must be furious with me for the lack of motherly love and compassion that I gave to Erik when he was a baby and young boy." Madeline finally stated, after the other two women had found their seats. "I was not prepared for the extent of the deformity when he was born…" Her eyes hazed over as she went back in time, "…I had a drug addiction problem while I was pregnant, and was too ignorant to realize what was happening to my unborn child."

Brigitte and Christine listened intently as the woman finally explained the mysterious source of Erik's deformities; and why he was bitter and resistant toward affection and touch.

"When I finally snapped out of my pitiful state and realized how blessed I had been, Erik was lost to me." She bore the weight of her guilt as a chain binding her forever in the world she had condemned Erik to. "He's a genius and no one knew what to do with him…his intelligence surpassed that of anyone I could hire to teach him about life and how to use his gifts for the greater good."

Madeline's hands were wringing an imaginary object as she continued, "I never hugged him or kissed him, or showed him any affection at all…I made him what he is," Her tears fell like raindrops to her hands, "I caused his deformity with my stupidity and then I couldn't even love him…until it was too late."

Christine could feel the bile working its way into her throat, how could a woman hate her own child in a way this woman was describing. She looked down at her son, resting calmly in her arms and could not help the overwhelming love that nestled in her breast.

"You never held him and nursed him, like a mother should." Christine focused her cold stare on the woman before her. "You made him believe he was a monster…unworthy of human contact and love…because of something he had no control over."

Madeline felt the palpable fury that was emanating from the young woman, "What are you to him…if I may ask?" Her voice was small and yielding.

"I was his pupil, friend, and the woman he loved…but because of his unyielding temper and the anger he carried for the world, everyone feared him…including me." Christine spat, "He was believed guilty of all the crimes that were committed in the opera house…rape, murder…criminal mischief…anything."

Madeline visibly trembled, "My son would never do those things." She whispered. "His heart was always gentle and kind…I just couldn't see it…until he wasn't there any longer."

"He wasn't guilty…but we didn't find out until it was too late…again." Brigitte stated.

Christine wiped the tears from her eyes with one hand and rocked her son with the other, her voice was low and menacing, "How can you even call yourself a mother…you don't deserve to know the man I know." Brigitte rested her hand on Christine's knee, calming her fury.

Christine stood up and paced the floor. A wave of guilt swept over her, "Of course, we are no better…we betrayed his trust too, thinking him something he was not. He was my friend…and I betrayed him." She turned and looked back at Madeline, her eyes had softened, but her stance was still defensive, "We have been looking for him for a combined total of four years and have not found him; not a clue as to where he is."

Madeline cleared her throat and lifted her chin, the same gesture Erik always did when trying to make a point, "I want to find him also, I want to wrap him my arms and tell him how sorry I am for how I treated him…and give him the kisses he asked for on his fifth birthday."

She wept the hardest she had wept in a long time; Brigitte went over to the broken woman and put an arm around her shoulders. "Everyone deserves a second chance, Madeline…just the fact that he put money away for you for years, shows that he does not completely despise you." Brigitte soothed, "He always knew where you were."

Christine was surprised at this, "He what?"

Brigitte went to her Bible and pulled out the letter that Erik had written to her on the night of his arrest. She handed it to Christine.

"Read this, it is the last bit of communication I had from him." Brigitte admitted, a painful heaviness resting in her heart.

Christine could barely make out the words as her tears fell down her cheeks. He had accepted his fate without question. He had been ready and willing to die for crimes he never committed, simply to be free from the pain of existing.

"He loved you…after everything that you did to him…he still loved you." Christine was amazed.

Christine finally allowed herself to see Madeline for what she was, a woman who had been thrown into a situation she was not prepared for, and she had panicked. He husband was dead and she had a deformed son whose condition reminded her, every time she looked upon it, that it was her fault.

Christine handed Jean Luc over to Brigitte and sat down beside Madeline, "I'm sorry Madeline…if he can love you despite all of that…then I can forgive you." Christine pleaded, and smiled when Madeline looked at her with warm eyes, "We'll continue to look for him…together."

OOOOOOOOOOO

And look they did, for two years. They read papers and hired detectives, asked questions of everyone and followed every possible lead they found…but Erik was nowhere to be found…they began to believe that he had perished…probably by his own hand.

After months of grieving and regret, it took them another year to accept that, live with the pain, and move on…they had formed a bond of friendship, trust, and loss; parting ways was simply not possible.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

You've been so good to me, 50 reviews in a rather short period of time…here is the beginning of Erik's story.

Mini Nicka – to answer your question. At the beginning of Chapter 1, I explained that for the purpose of my story, Madam Giry never married; and therefore, Meg does not exist. I hope this helps.

OperaLover – I wanted to portray Erik's mother as a broken and contrite woman. She has no idea that Christine and Brigitte betrayed Erik almost as terribly as she did.

Gerardphantomhot – Oh no, my young one…there are at least 20 more chapters already written…so breathe easy.

Enjoy…

THE DAWN THROUGH THE NIGHT

**_Part II – Making Life out of Nothing at All – Chapters 8 - 10_**

_June 2, 1872- February 27, 1879_

_Erik_

CHAPTER 8

The horse and rider moved, like the wind, through the countryside of France for what seemed like weeks. They stopped only to sleep, usually against a tree, hidden deep in the forest.

The haunted man atop the horse fought the elements to escape himself and the horror he had made of his life; but everywhere he turned, he was faced with the cold hard facts…he belonged nowhere and had no one; maybe death would finally have him.

The rain pounded his back and drenched the cape that shrouded him. The wounds on his back were festered and agonizing, and he knew the infection was spreading. It had been a few days since he left Paris, but the weariness in his bones, the pain in his chest, and the cold flow of his blood, pronounced the years he had spent buried beneath its hoard of humanity.

He would not give any of them the satisfaction of finding his body or spreading the news of his death. It would happen this night, when he desired it, and no one he loved would know - not that they would care anyway. He did not wish for his fate to reach the ears of those who waited with baited breath for news of his death.

They stopped and sought refuge in a barn, off the road about one-half of a mile. The old house looked to be abandoned; the lawn was grown over with weeds, and there wasn't any sign of life. Erik tied Nemesis and relaxed on the floor of the barn. It was well past midnight, probably closer to three or four o'clock in the morning.

He had been riding for hours, and those hours had turned into days. He was ragged and cold, hungry and dirty…his, already, too slender frame had lost a great deal of weight over the passing days. He hadn't eaten anything since fleeing Paris, and he drank water from various streams he had encountered.

Erik sat, surveying his surroundings. He didn't figure on anyone finding him for days, but he didn't want to leave a blood pool for someone to clean up…his mother had taught him to always be clean. He pulled the vile and syringe from his leather satchel, and studied them for a few minutes; it would be painful…at first; but then, pain had always been with him. The pain would pass and then he would simply sleep.

Death…the one thing that seemed to call his name; what purpose was there in remaining on this earth…he had no family, no friends, no future. He had known, the night he left Paris, that he would die by his own hand…he had attempted it before, but this time…there would be no one to pull his sorry carcass back from the grip of death.

He knew that suicide was frowned upon by the church, but Erik had been told, over and over again, that creatures like him had no soul…animals had no place in heaven; so he was doing the world a favor; just one less soulless animal to deal with.

The needle felt as cold as ice at it slid into his vein. The liquid stung as it entered his system…just as it did the last time he attempted this. Morphine had once gripped his mind…but he rid himself of its affects years ago. This dose was the last of the stored supply he had…it was well over the dosage that should kill him.

The entire vile poured into his bloodstream. The euphoria hit immediately, causing his mind to hallucinate images and sounds. Eventually, the pain crept into his body…it would take awhile…but he had nothing but time…

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Desiree Lambert had come to France as the daughter of Baptist missionaries. She had come at the age of five and studied the culture and the language, hoping to follow in her parents footsteps in the years to come.

She had not planned on falling in love with a journalist and loosing her parents both in the same year; but life has a way of throwing curves at us.

Her parents were killed in a hostile raid at the prison camp they were ministering to. They died doing the Lord's work, but it still left Desiree alone and vulnerable at the age of eighteen.

Javier Monét waltzed into her life and swept her off her feet, not two months after her parents died. He was suave, handsome, and French…she was his from the first joining of their eyes.

He had enjoyed a couple of great years after they married. His journalism skills were unsurpassed. But then, six years after they married, he contacted a strange, unknown sickness that devastated his body and mind.

Every bit of money that he had put aside for their life together was depleted in a matter of months; between doctors and medicine…there was nothing left. Now, Desiree was destitute, widowed, and pregnant. Javier had died two weeks before she found out she was carrying their first, long-awaited child; that had been five months ago.

This ragged house and the overgrown property on which it sat, had belonged to an old man who had passed away a few months ago. He had no family and no friends, so Desiree moved in.

The house was dark and dank, but it was free. Desiree had no oil for the lamps and no wood to cook with. She had been surviving on bread and water, and the occasional slab of meat that the doctor would bring when he came.

She needed to go down to the stream and carry up a bucket of water for washing. She had left the bucket in the barn the last time, so she put on her shoes and walked out to the barn.

She knew she shouldn't be carrying a bucket of water in her condition, but how else was she going to get the water…the doctor wasn't due to come for two days, and she needed it now.

The barn was as run down as the rest of the property, which really didn't matter, considering she had no livestock or horses to house in it. But this morning, Desiree noticed a horse moving about inside.

"Whose are you?" She gasped, approaching the beautiful steed.

She advanced on the horse gingerly, not sure if it was tame or wild; but as she came closer, the beautiful black stallion lowered his head and neighed.

"What a beautiful creature you are." Desiree cooed. "What is it boy…what are you trying to show me?"

The horse was stamping about, not dangerously, but determinedly. He seemed to be trying to get her to do something.

"You sure are wound up about something, aren't you…" she began.

About that time, she turned in the direction of the horses eyes, and saw a man lying in the dirty straw. She startled for a moment, not sure if he was asleep or dead.

She crept up to him and noticed that his breathing was shallow and he was not moving. She went to his side, thinking that if the horse was concerned for his master, that he must not be too bad. He was bloody, dirty, and his face was contorted in a painful grimace.

"Mister?" She asked, "Hey mister…wake up." She said forcefully, while poking him in the arm. He was terribly slender and looked sickly.

He did not budge. Then she averted her eyes from his handsome but ragged appearance, and spied the vile and syringe lying by his side. This man had injected an entire vile of some clear liquid.

Desiree picked up the vile and sniffed…she had no idea what it was, but the circumstances did not look good. She smoothed the stranger's hair back from his face, noticing the mask, but not being too concerned with it.

He was burning up; she needed to get the doctor here, quickly. She mounted the horse, being an excellent rider, with no difficulty, even though she was seven months pregnant.

She hoped and prayed that the horse would not throw her, it would mean sure death for her unborn child. But the stallion seemed to sense that she was doing this for his master, and allowed her ride him, fast and furious, toward the doctor's house.

Dr. Thibaud Bateaux took only his bag and a few necessary things to determine what the stranger had taken. Desiree had not been able to identify the substance, but he had an idea of what it was.

"I hope we get there in time." Was all he said as he followed her to her house.

Total travel time was an hour, so by the time they got back to the slumbering man; he had been in this state for four hours.

The doctor knelt by the man's side and picked up the vile; he put it to his nose and sniffed the contents. He dropped his eyes and shook his head.

"He's taken an overdose of Morphine…probably wanting to commit suicide." Dr. Bateaux mumbled, not understanding the need of anyone to take such drastic measures.

"Why would anyone do such a thing?" Desiree asked herself.

"Do you mind if he stays in your house, I need to get him out of these unsanitary conditions?" The doctor asked, ignoring her question.

Desiree nodded, knowing that she could not leave him out in the filthy hay and dirt, he was a stranger in need…and many times, the Bible tells us, we entertain angels unaware. Perhaps, this stranger was an angel coming to test her faith.

The horse came over and lovingly nudged the sleeping man, neighing at him softly and nibbling on his clothes, but the man did not stir. The doctor rigged a device with allowed the horse to pull the stranger to the house, and the doctor pulled him the rest of the way in.

"I have him stabilized, he took a great deal of the drug." He said, "But thankfully, it has been discovered that it takes a great deal more than what he injected to cause death, especially for a man of his size."

The doctor could not lift the man into the bed, so he left him on the floor with a blanket and a pillow.

"I will return in about an hour with help. We will get him onto the bed so that he can recuperate." Dr. Bateaux reported. "He will be very sick, he has whip marks on his back that are infected; and I doubt he will be pleased when he awakes." He said lightly, trying to calm Desiree's nerves. "I will be here to help you." He promised.

The good doctor rode off to find the neighbor to come and help move Erik to the bedroom.

While he was gone, Desiree retrieved some water and began washing the man's face, arms and chest. His clothes were expensively designed and tailored, but filthy. He must have been traveling for some time.

His features, when cleaned up, were very handsome on the left side. She had thought her Javier was handsome, but this man was even more so. His hair was black, long and wavy, and his lips were full and uniquely shaped; they were stunning. He had a sculptured cheekbone and long lashes; along with a dimpled chin…he left her breathless.

She removed the mask and was startled to see the marred flesh that it covered. He must have been in a terrible accident, or maybe scarred from birth. She had seen many such deformities over the years. Her parents had taken her to some of the most remote places on earth, and she had seen some horrible things.

Surely, this could not be the cause of this man's suicide attempt. It covered, not even, a third of his face; and the rest of his features were flawless. She pulled the tattered and torn shirt from him and blushed at finding his chest powerfully built and defined…and further visual assessment found his arms and legs as equally breathtaking.

She grimaced at the wounds on his body. He had been beaten profusely and recently. He had a large, nasty bruise on his rib cage…the doctor had mentioned that it looked like he had a broken rib or two. His breathing was ragged and shallow, giving Desiree reason to be concerned. She remained by his side and voiced a prayer for his quick and easy recovery; of mind, body, and soul.

What would possess a man of obvious wealth to attempt suicide? He was terribly malnourished, and he had an aura of darkness surrounding him; but he was attractive and young…surely he had much to live for.

She placed the mask on the dresser, giving it a menacing glare. "There will be no hiding behind masks in my house Mr. Adonis…no hiding at all." She would make sure he knew the rules when he awakened.

And awaken he did, three days later.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

Do not panic, this is an Erik/Christine coupling. Desiree is important to the story line, so please bear with me.

Thank you for all the wonderful reviews. I didn't have as many for the last chapter as I had hoped, but maybe folks are busy…none the less…I bring you chapter 9 – enjoy!

THE DAWN THROUGH THE NIGHT

**_Part II – Making Life out of Nothing at All – Chapters 8 - 10_**

CHAPTER 9

It had been the longest two days of Desiree's life. The man tossed and turned, and burned with a fever from the infection invading his body. She bathed his forehead, neck, and chest with cool water and constantly checked his temperature.

He had spent the greater part of the days and nights mumbling and fighting battles in his sleep. She had once heard that words said in the midst of a heavy sleep, never lie. This man had been through extreme anguish all of his life.

He spoke of betrayal and lost love; of a viscous, unloving, uncaring mother and gypsies, who abused him mentally, physically, and sexually. His vivid words made Desiree cringe with revulsion at what he had been put through; and he revealed things to her that she was sure he would have rather not.

It seemed to have all started with his mothers loathing, and the mask she forced upon him; and then it just escalated from there. Desiree could not believe the atrocities she heard spew from his mouth. She soothed his heated brow and spoke calming words into his ears, hoping to reach his fevered mind.

By the time his eyes opened on the third day after his arrival, Desiree knew just about everything there was to know about this man…except, his name.

"Hello, Mr. Adonis…" she leaned into his features and smiled brightly, "…oh, my green-eyed Adonis…" Desiree sang, as she threw open the heavy drapes covering the windows; dust went everywhere. "I was wondering what color those eyes would be."

He threw his arm up and covered his eyes from the sharp invasion of light. He sat in stunned silence, taking in his surroundings. He was supposed to be dead…the needle slipped into his vein and administered the weapon that would finally take him from this miserable existence…once again, death abandoned him.

He felt like death, he probably didn't look much better; and yet, before him stood a beautiful young woman with red hair and blue eyes; an obvious, protruding abdomen registered in his brain as pregnancy, so there must be a husband about.

"Where am I?" came his raspy question.

The angel smiled, came toward him, and wiped his brow. "You're in my home…such as it is." Her eyes collided with his, and she smiled even brighter, "You overdosed on Morphine…which I choose to believe was an accident…and I found you in my barn." She put her finger to her chin as if recalling details, "After that magnificent horse of yours pointed me toward you."

He was having trouble keeping up with her accelerated speech. She spoke faster than he could process thought at this moment, and she spoke with a strange accent. He realized she was staring at him and dropped his eyes.

"You should have left me." He pointedly said, his tone becoming hushed and threatening.

Without missing a beat, she chastised, "Don't give me that tone and I was not going to let a perfectly good man expire in my barn."

The man just sat there with his mouth agape, staring at this woman as if she had lost her mind. "What could have possessed you to help me?" he asked. "You should be terrified of me." Panic filled his eyes and then his hand shot to the right side of his face. He cursed under his breath and stared her down with his left eye.

Desiree watched as the proud, sensual demeanor he had been portraying, became something else entirely. His entire countenance changed to one of vulnerability and mistrust.

"Don't bother, I have bathed your brow, forced soup and water down your throat, and listened to your life history for the past two days…and all of that was done without the mask." Her stare was unsettling, "There will be no hiding behind that mask in my house, Mr. Adonis."

The hand slowly lowered, but his eyes fixed on hers. "How can you bear to be in the same room as I?" He asked; uncertainty in his tone.

"Well, let's see." She replied, putting her finger to her mouth as if in deep thought.

She looked deep into his eyes; they were the most striking shade of green she had ever seen and she found in their depths a longing…a longing for acceptance and understanding.

"You have done nothing to make me frightened of you…you have the most striking eyes I have ever seen, your voice calms my soul…" Her face lit up, giving her an inner glow that seamed to illuminate the room. "…there are lots more reasons, but we'll stop there."

Erik scowled at her, looking disappointed and grumpy. "Why did you help me?"

"Number one, because how did I know that you weren't an angel from God sent to keep me company; number two, my parents taught me to treat to others as I would wish to be treated, and number three; my husband, God rest his soul, never met a stranger; he loved everyone." She breathed with conviction in her voice.

The man smirked, but the action did not reach his eyes, "Believe me, child, I am no angel from God." He declared.

"Well, maybe not, but you are still from God…one way or the other." Desiree insisted. "And I am no child."

He fixed a cold stare on her, but his lips curved in a whisper of a sad smile, "You are compared to me…you don't even know me."

Desiree was not in the least bit intimidated by his foul mood, "In that, you are wrong, Mr. Adonis…I know a great deal about you…you talk when you sleep." She leaned over him and smiled. "You don't look old, Mr. Adonis, so please stop calling yourself old…I am twenty-four, I doubt you're much older than that."

Erik stared incredulously at her animated features. He had thought her no older than Christine had been, but she was only three years younger than he was. She was petite and fresh looking; very misleading to a man who knew next to nothing about women.

"Why do you keep calling me that ridiculous name?" He asked, turning toward the door as it opened.

The doctor strode in at that moment and walked up to the bedside. "How is our patient, Madam Monét?"

Desiree wrinkled her brow and pursed her lips, "He's a bit of a grump, but other than that…charming." She chided, smiling at the handsome stranger.

"I'm sure." The doctor retorted, with uplifted eyebrows. "I am Dr. Thibaud Bateaux, and this lovely woman is Madam Desiree Monét."

They stood beside his bed, as if waiting for him to introduce himself. They obviously weren't going to leave until he did.

"I am Erik…" he hesitated in using his real last name, so pulled one out of the recesses of his mind, "Erik de Ville." He finally replied with a bored sigh.

Desiree smiled, every feature of her face lighting up, "There, now don't you feel better?"

Erik scowled at her annoying brightness. She was a sprightly little thing, and it grated against the scrooge that lurked within him.

The doctor did a thorough examination; letting Erik know that the sores on his back had scabbed over and were on their way to healing; he would have permanent scars, but they would fade with time.

"Scars are something I am very familiar with." Erik mused.

"Alright, enough depressing talk, you need to eat…and I have some fresh potato soup that has just reached is perfection…coming right up." Desiree chirped, her heart leaping into her throat.

Erik mumbled, "Are you always this infuriatingly perky?"

She headed out the door as she spoke, "Yes, it's a curse from my mother…she was the ultimate optimist."

Erik rolled his eyes and smirked at his "good fortune."

"Oh, lucky me." He muttered.

She came back, not two minutes later with something that smelled delicious. She put a napkin at his chin, which he reluctantly allowed after she slapped his hand away, and proceeded to feed him the soup.

"I am not an invalid; I am perfectly capable of feeding myself." Erik insisted, as he grabbed for the bowl again.

Desiree cocked her head and pursed her lips at him, "Consider it practice for when the baby arrives." She remarked, as she continued to spoon the delectable soup into his mouth. Erik reluctantly admitted to himself that the soup tasted heavenly.

"I am no baby, Madam." He pouted.

"It is hard to tell with the way you are acting." She retorted.

He gave her an indignant glare and decided to cooperate with her. His humiliation would end much sooner.

He examined her features, closely. She barely looked more than a child; strawberry blond hair and blue eyes stood out from an elfin face, dotted with freckles. She was quite striking, actually – had Erik been interested in such things.

They finished feeding time, and Erik half way expected her to try to burp him. This thought planted a strange image in his mind, which caused him to smirk. He continued to watch her move about the room, picking up items that had fallen to the floor and placing the bowl and spoon on the table in the corner.

His dark, searching eyes managed to make her slightly uncomfortable under their assessing stare. She glanced at him and gave a nervous smile. He was extremely handsome, and seemed to have no knowledge of this.

"May I have my mask, please…Madam Monét?" Erik asked, trying to sound businesslike.

Desiree looked at him and smiled as if he were the most attractive man on earth, "I told you there would be no hiding in my house…I've only known you for three days; and after three days I don't even notice the deformity."

Erik was trying to be patient…after all, she was just a child, "My dear, I can be a patient man, but I have found myself pressed to the limit over the past several months…please, just give me the mask."

She silently strode over, retrieved the offensive item from the wardrobe, and roughly handed it to him. He instantly placed it over his right side, making it seem as if he was placing a layer of skin over it.

"Are you really the Phantom of the Opera?" Desiree asked, knowing it would jolt him.

The only sign of his disturbance was a slight increase of the pulse at the juncture of his neck, "Where did you hear…" dawning lit up his face, "I talk in my sleep." He whispered.

"Yes you do…and things said under the veil of sleep are never lies…I know all about the accusations brought against you and the fact that you are not guilty…I get the newspaper down here to, you know." Desiree said with a smile. "Your genius in music and art precedes you, Monsieur. It is an honor to meet you."

His face was unreadable. He did not hear the admiration in her voice or the breathy tone with which she spoke to him. All he heard was the fact that she knew who and what he was.

"If you give me one day to get my strength back, I will leave." Erik stated, scathingly, dropping his eyes to the floor and clenching his jaw.

"Leave? Why on earth would I want you to leave?" She exclaimed. "You just tried to commit suicide, Erik…I am not letting you go anywhere." She bent over and kissed his forehead, leaving him awestruck in her wake, "God has a purpose for you being here, and He will reveal His will, in time." He fluffed the pillow and blankets around him and smiled, "Now rest, we will talk later."

She picked up the bowl and spoon, and glided out of the room, leaving him still wondering about the kiss to his forehead. Whatever possessed her to do that?

This woman had lost her husband, was completely destitute, by the looks of things; was very pregnant, with no way of supporting the child…and she still spoke of God with joy in her heart and voice. Erik had never seen such faith.

His eyes were heavy and his head was pounding, so he slipped back down beneath the covers and drifted into another deep sleep. Why was he spared the peace of death this time? Only time would tell.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

To calm your ragged nerves again…this is an Erik/Christine pairing…so breathe easy.

I am glad that everyone seems to like Desiree…she is a vital part of Erik's growth process.

This is a pivotal chapter…so enjoy.

THE DAWN THROUGH THE NIGHT

**_Part II – Making Life out of Nothing at All – Chapters 8 - 10_**

CHAPTER 10

Erik spent the next four days in bed, in and out of consciousness. His fever soared high again, but the doctor managed to get it down and Erik had been fever free for two days.

Desiree watched over him as a mother hen watches over her chicks. Keeping his face clean and cool and dabbing his upper chest to keep the fever out of it. She thought he had a magnificent chest; she was blushing just thinking about it. "Javier, you know I loved you, but this man has me thinking about romance again." She said toward the heavens, knowing her late husband would want her to follow her heart.

She spent her daily time with God, reading and studying His word. She prayed at many times during the day…wanting God to reveal His purpose for Erik. Every time she asked, that still, small voice replied, "In due time, My child, in due time."

Erik eventually worked up the strength to get out of bed. Desiree had wanted to prepare a bath for him, but the doctor and Erik both scolded her, telling her that hauling those buckets of water was out of the question in her condition. The doctor managed to fetch enough water for a bath.

The doctor had recommended a husband and wife team named Sam and Nancy Reynolds, from England, as maid and butler for Desiree's household. They worked diligently at cleaning up the place and Erik supplied their wages, oil for the furnace and lights, and wood for the stove.

He decided to stay on for a few weeks and help spiff up the place…he owed her at least that. She talked to him every night after he finished the outside chores. She spoke of God and His sovereignty; she spoke of the devotion her parents had taught her to Him and His will; she spoke of the man she had fallen so madly in love with that she defied, what she thought had been her calling, to marry him; only to find that her true calling was to be with him.

"How can you speak of Him as a benevolent and loving God, when He took your husband away from you and left you pregnant and destitute?" Erik asked, not understanding such devotion.

Desiree got up from the table and poured Erik another cup of coffee. "God never promised that life was always going to be a bed of roses Erik, roses have thorns – sometimes we have to crawl though a long stem of prickly, painful thorns to find the beautiful rose at the end…there has to be bad times to appreciate the good."

She smiled at him with a joy that was beyond his genius, "We are not puppets that He controls with short strings Erik, He has granted us free will - and the sin that free will has allowed into the world produces death and pain."

She reached over and grasped his hand in hers, "Death is a natural part of life…and I accepted Javier's death with the peace of knowing that I will see him again." Her warm fingers embraced the strength she felt in his, "His grace has given you to me, for whatever purpose and for however long He allows it."

Erik's mind drifted, wondering what his purpose was for being here. He had never considered the possibility that God had a purpose for one such as he; he had always assumed he had been abandoned by everyone, including the Almighty.

Another late night talk session occurred some days later. Desiree walked into the parlor to find Erik staring into the fire with a lost and a lonely look on his face.

"She hurt you deeply, didn't she?" Desiree observed, as Erik mused over his memories.

He looked from the embers into her quiet, searching eyes. "I cannot even breathe without her name being on my lips." He finally confessed. "I will never be good enough for any woman…why did I think otherwise?" His voice trailed off in a painful tone. "I will love her until the day I die…and that terrifies me."

Desiree felt the tears stinging her eyes. His pain was so palpable and she felt it to her very core. In the four week she had known him, she realized she had developed deep, longing love for him

"Erik, you are a man that any woman would be honored to be with; you're very handsome, too intelligent for your own good…" she teased with a wink, "…hard working, extremely creative…do I need to continue?" Desiree asked him, as she came to stand beside him.

Erik didn't really believe anything she was saying, she was just being the overly sweet, very kind Desiree that he knew she was.

"Is she why you sought to end your life?" She asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Is that what she would have wanted you to do?'

Erik considered her words and shrugged his broad shoulders. In the past month, he had put on weight, which made him even more enticing. He no longer looked sickly, but robust and healthy, with a golden hue on his skin from the kiss of the sun. He had chopped wood and made repairs to the house and barn, anticipating Desiree's needs.

"I honestly doubt she gave much thought to what I wanted…no one ever has." He reflected with sad eyes. "She was terrified of me." He smiled up at her soft features, "She was merely a child…and I was her worst nightmare."

Desiree took his hands in hers and pulled him to a standing position. "I doubt that." She whispered.

She moved away from him and curtsied.

"If you can stand my protruding belly, today is my birthday..." She said with a titter. "…and I must have my traditional birthday dance."

Erik creased his brow, "Dance?"

Desiree pouted prettily, relaying to Erik that she wanted him to say more.

"Oh…and happy birthday." He added, still cautious of her intentions.

She grinned and curtsied, "Thank you, my lord."

Erik chuckled at her endearment.

She slowly moved into his arms and wrapped them around her – one on her waist and the other in her hand. Erik swallowed hard, showing his unease in the situation.

"Relax, I won't break." She breathed with a whisper.

For the first time in his life, Erik held a woman in his arms and danced. There was no music but the sound of their hearts beating and the occasional exchange of words. He realized he had come to care for this wisp of a woman very much. She had succeeded in making him forget his woes.

He had no idea that Desiree was falling hopelessly in love with him more and more as each day passed, he saw her as a woman barely out of her childhood, and he counted her as one of only two friends he had in the world…the other was the doctor.

Erik smirked at that, he had always hated doctors; Étienne had turned him against them. But Doctor Bateaux had become a good friend, and he was highly intelligent and ethical. Erik respected him and considered his opinion priceless.

Thinking that a woman would fall in love with him was the farthest thing from his mind; and Desiree never pressed the issue. She was content, for now, to simply have him in the same household. She knew his heart was in a quandary and she knew that, in time, he would open it up to someone else.

They ended the dance and Erik bent over her hand and gave it a kiss. "Thank you, fair maiden, for the wonderful evening. I hope you had a good birthday." He bowed, clicked his heals, and bid her good night.

'Oh Desiree, when are you going to show that man how much you love him?" Desiree asked herself.

She headed up to her room and slid between the sheets. Erik encompassed her thoughts almost every moment of every day and night. He had become the most important person in her life. She missed her late husband dearly…he had been her first love. But Erik awakened the womanly need in her once again, and she longed to be in his arms.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Two weeks went by, quietly for the most part. Erik had been unusually busy with repairs and he and Desiree had not had much of a chance to spend time together.

It was a usual afternoon, Erik and Sam had gone in to town to get supplies such as food and oil. It was late-July and there were intermittent rain showers, but the weather was mostly warm and mild.

They arrived back at the house and Nancy came running out to greet them. A panicked smile covered her face.

"Madam Monét…she is in labor…" Nancy was trying to catch her breath and speak at the same time.

Erik jumped from the wagon, ran into the house, and bounded up the stairs to her room. She was lying in a pool of amniotic fluid and she was smiling, but the fear was in her eyes.

"Erik, what do I do?" Her voice was small and frightened. She extended her hand and he came to her.

"I don't know Desiree, I've never had a baby…" he jested, making her smile.

He lifted her into his arms and carried her down the stairs, where it was cooler. He instructed Nancy to change the bed sheets and clean the room up, while he and Sam readied the room downstairs.

The doctor was due in about an hour, he stopped in every day around five o'clock in the afternoon. Erik got clean towels and filled the tub with water, knowing the doctor would require it.

Nancy helped Desiree change into clean, dry clothing to allow her to be more comfortable, and then laid her down on the bed. This was Erik's room, but he found he had the coolest room in the house, and that was what Desiree needed right now.

She rested her head on his pillow, smelling his cologne and soap all over it. He smelled so good. After she had the baby and everything settled into a routine, she would tell him how she felt, anything after that would be up to him. She knew God had a purpose for him being with her.

Erik sat nervously beside her, dabbing her forehead and keeping her calm. She looked at him through bright but weary eyes. Her smile radiated the joy she felt at the prospect of her new baby.

She reached over and took Erik's hand, examining the long, strong fingers which had produced some of the most beautiful music…or so the papers said.

Desiree smiled at him and gathered her nerve as another contraction gripped her. Erik watched the excruciating pain cross her face, and wished he could take it into himself to shield her from its vice.

Her voice was calm and clear when she spoke, "Erik, I know this is highly irregular…but I am not going to hide this anymore…" she gripped his hand even closer, "I…"

Doctor Bateaux knocked as he entered, not realizing he had interrupted an intimate moment. Erik greeted him as he waited for Desiree to complete her thought. She shook her head, indicating that what she was going to say had been for his ears only.

"Has the labor started yet?" the doctor asked Desiree.

She shook her head, as another contraction hit her, "I've been having labor pains since early last night, but my water didn't break until this afternoon." She said through the pain.

Doctor Bateaux went to the door and instructed Nancy to come into the room and shooed Erik out. He examined Desiree and found that her eight centimeters dilated, but he also felt something that terrified him to the core. He put his stethoscope to her abdomen and listened intently.

The look on his face said all that she needed to know. Something was dreadfully wrong.

"Desiree, your baby is breech and I can barely hear the heartbeat…it won't survive the stress of birthing." The doctor stated, feeling the weight of each word he said.

The look on Desiree's face showed complete resolve to the task she knew lay ahead. Tears filled her eyes, knowing these could be her last few minutes on earth…and she knew what she had to do.

The Voice that had guided her all her life spoke clearly in her mind, 'All things work to the good for those who love Me and are called according to My purpose.'

"Doctor …she must live." Desiree proclaimed; weakly, but firmly; stubborn insistence shown in her eyes.

The doctor went pale…it was a procedure he had done only one other time…and it had not been a success.

"Madam Monét…" Thibaud began.

"Do it…I know this must be done." Desiree stated, a look of peace settling on her countenance.

"The risks for you are too great." Thibaud stated, dejectedly, tears forming in his gray eyes.

There was no question in her eyes, and the doctor had no choice but to obey her wishes. She knew what had to be done.

"Erik?" She said clearly, her voice rising so that he would hear her.

Erik entered the room upon hearing her ask for him. The doctor explained the situation to him and fear gripped his heart, he had heard of such procedures, being a well-read man; but being witness to it was a different matter. The chance of survival for Desiree was not good.

"Erik." Desiree called, wanting him to come over to the bed.

He came toward her, and quietly took her outstretched hand, as the doctor prepared to perform the surgery. Nancy and Sam stood back, completely shaken by these horrible turn of events.

"I know what God's will is…I know the doctor will do all he can, but I will not survive this procedure…take my baby and raise her as your own." Desiree insisted, a weak but gracious smile on her face.

Erik shook his head in shocked horror, "No Desiree, you have to fight…your baby needs a mother…I don't know the first thing about babies…"

She reached her hand up and caressed his marred cheek for the first time, ever. "I love you, Erik…I have for weeks now…I wanted to marry you and have a family with you…but God has shown me the path He has chosen."

Shock and wonderment were written all over his face, "You made me feel like a woman again, with your handsomeness, beautiful voice and strong hands."

Erik could not believe what she was saying. "Now I know you're delusional." Erik teased, trying to keep the mood light. He saw the tears in her eyes and reached to wipe them with his hand. She moved into his hand with her cheek and his heart wrenched.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" He asked, desperation in his voice. "We could have…"

He started to say more, but she hushed him with her shaking head, "No Erik…we weren't meant to be." She lowered her eyes and allowed the tears to drench her cheeks.

Erik leaned in and kissed her forehead, gently moving her strawberry curls away from her face. Her eyes shone with an unearthly light that Erik did not comprehend.

"Follow your heart…and you'll do just fine." Desiree whispered, "Love waits for you in another place…don't turn away." She felt the pain of another contraction barreling down on her.

As the doctor administered a dose of morphine to dull her pain, Erik felt tears prickling his eyes, "You are so worthy of the love of a good woman, Erik." Desiree murmured, "Something tells me that you will find each other…" her eyes lit up with a bit of green jealousy, "…oh how I envy her."

Her eyes drifted shut as she began to slip into unconsciousness; she drug rendering her painless. Her voice pierced the silence with its intensity, "Promise me Erik…promise me you will take my daughter and love her, cherish her as your own. Raise her in the church…her name is to be Grace."

He looked into her sky blue eyes, as his filled with tears, "You know I will Desiree, I promise." His voice was choked and strained from the tears.

She drew him down to her with her final dose of strength, placing her still warm lips against his unmasked cheek. Erik felt his heart breaking. She had confessed her love for him and now she was leaving this world and the child she had wanted so badly. He knew he would have been happy with her.

A smile graced her mouth as her strength waned, her eyes opened once more and focused on his; a baby's healthy cry was heard in the background. Erik watched as the light faded from her eyes while she continued to look directly at him; the smile still in place…one last word escaped her lips before death's cold hand claimed her, "Heaven."

Grace Hannah Destler was born as her mother slipped into eternity, on July 23, 1872.

Erik had told them his true name, once it was clear that they knew who he was. Sam, Nancy, and the doctor assured him that his identity would be kept a secret for as long as he wished it.

Thibaud tried desperately to stop Desiree's bleeding, but he could not stitch her up as fast the blood flowed out, every heart was weeping as a baby girl searched for the breast of the mother who had loved her so much.

Erik held the tiny, sleeping girl in his arms as his tears flowed; he had only seen babies from a distance, and never held one. It was love at first sight. He warmed some milk over the stove as the doctor prepared Desiree's body for burial.

Erik had sent Sam into town to purchase bottles and nipples, in case Desiree had been unable to nurse; now, he was thankful he had had that foresight. Erik had lost a friend today, possibly the only woman to see him as a man; but she had given him a piece of herself to carry with him…for the rest of his life.

They buried Desiree next to her husband, out in the back of the property, beneath the flowing branches of a beautiful oak tree.

"What are you going to do, Erik?" Thibaud asked, after things had settled down.

"I can't stay here…I will take her and go over the border into Spain." Erik replied.

Thibaud smiled, "Traveling will be more difficult now, Erik…you have a daughter to think about." He stated, but he knew that Nancy and Sam would be with him every step of the way.

Erik shook his head in agreement; he was petrified. He had no idea how to be a father…he barely knew how to be a man. How was he going to raise a daughter and be to her all that she needed him to be?

One week later, Erik, Grace, Sam, and Nancy left the small province outside of Toulouse, and headed southwest toward Spain. Erik had sold Nemesis and the Monét farm. He took little with him except Grace's clothing, bottles, the bassinet he had built, and his belongings.

They booked two rooms on a train, each couple wanting their privacy. The ride was pleasant and Grace was a wonderful baby. Erik doted on her, refusing to allow anyone else to care for; he changed her, fed her, played with her, and sang her to sleep.

He had booked the tickets to a small town on the shoreline of Spain called Bilbao. The beach was beautiful, a place Erik had never been. He purchased a decent size house, and Nancy and Sam went about making it a home for them, their master, and his infant daughter.

Erik began doing his designs again, and before long, they were in demand in all the major cities. He was a brilliant architect, and this provided an unending source of income. He was able to be home with Grace; and Sam and Nancy only asked for a small salary to provide for their personal wants; Erik supplied everything else.

Whenever he went on a promotional trip, Grace went with him, and she stole everyone's heart. She had his dark hair and green eyes. She had ivory skin and lovely features; she resembled Erik immensely, something he found amazing. Desiree had never described her husband to him, so he assumed he must have been dark haired and green eyed.

He earned the respect and admiration of businesses and people all over Spain and Southern France; eventually, his notoriety reached all over Europe. His designs were coveted by royalty and desired by people everywhere.

His fame surpassed his mask, and the rumors were that he had been scarred in a terrible accident as a child. Erik chose to let this rumor fan their curiosity. For some unknown reason, it was more acceptable to have been in an accident, than to have been born with the deformity.

Grace was two when Erik began teaching her to play the piano and sing. She had a wonderful sense of music, and Erik found himself wondering if it had been Desiree or her husband that had had the gift of music.

Fatherhood agreed with Erik; when he was around Grace, he smiled and laughed more than he had ever done in his life. She filled his days with joy and his heart with love. The man he saw in the mirror these days, looked younger and healthier than at any time before.

She grew up seeing him without his mask, most of the time. He did not want to have to face showing her his ugliness later in life; he wanted her to grow up very much aware of it; that's how her mother would have wanted it.

Grace was an accomplished pianist by the time she was four. Erik took her to church diligently, every Sunday. She learned to play in front of the congregation and everyone loved her and her doting father.

Erik was the topic among all the young ladies at the church and in the town. They knew he was the famous architect, Erik Destler, and they wanted to get to know him better. They took it upon themselves to try to whittle their way into his life, thinking that Grace needed a mother figure. Although they were beautiful, Erik knew they were only interested in his money and his daughter…not him.

Many times throughout the years, beautiful and available women would show up at his door and spend an afternoon in his company; wanting to gain his affection and love. Erik would appease them with conversation and a song or two, but he never offered anything else…he never thought to do so.

He laughed at the ludicrous thought of these women pursuing him. 'They must truly be desperate for male companionship to seek my company.' He thought. He brushed their affections aside, unaware that their interest was in him as well as Grace.

For six years, they lived and breathed each other. Nancy and Sam became like grandma and grandpa to Grace, and the family watched over each other with devotion and diligence.

One morning, in mid-February 1879, Erik pulled his daughter into his lap. He listened to her read at a level far beyond her years and nestled his nose in her sweet smelling hair. He adored her with all his heart.

She finished her book, and turned into him, putting her head to his broad chest and listening to the resounding beat of his heart. She had done this since she was a baby, taking refuge in the strength of that beat.

"I love you, Papa." Grace murmured, as her eyes closed.

Erik swallowed hard, he would never get used to the beauty of those words as she directed them toward him.

"I love you too, Mon Chéri." Erik cooed back. He caressed her head with his large, warm hand, wrapping her soft curls around his fingers. "Grace, I have a major business deal that has arisen in Paris, France…I have been asked to move there by my client and oversee the building progress myself."

Moving back to Paris was an unsettling prospect, but it had been seven years since he had left, they had surely forgotten him by now.

Grace perked her head up and smiled sweetly, "I would love to go to Paris, Papa…" she exclaimed, getting more and more excited as time passed, "…I have read about its music and art…I will love it there!"

"I will have to hire a governess when we get there, to make sure you do your studies and practicing while I am on site…will you mind having a woman to watch over you?" Erik teased, she had been asking for a mother…every other girl had a mother, why didn't she? – those were her exact words.

"Not at all…you know that." She teased back.

Her face grew serious for a moment, and she leaned into him again. "Papa, I see men and women walking hand in hand on the beach and putting their lips together, but not like I do to you or you to me, its different…" she did not notice the intake of breath, "...it seems to make them happy…why don't you ever have a woman do that to you?"

Erik did not want to answer, but it was now or later, so he chose now. "Grace, I am not the kind of man that women want to do those things with…I am…" How do you tell your child that women are repulsed by you, "…my mask and what is beneath it…this keeps women away…I am just too ugly and scary." He stared deep into her eyes, "That is why God gave you to me as a gift from your real mom and dad; I will never have children of my own."

Grace raised her disappointed, beautiful, green eyes to his equally beautiful, green eyes, "I think you're the most handsome man there is…and when I grow up…I am going to marry you." She pronounced as she squirmed out of his lap and headed for her room.

"Grace, little girls can't grow up and marry their fathers…it doesn't work that way." Erik chuckled as he spoke.

"Then I will find a woman who will marry you…I want to see you happy like those couples were happy on the beach." She remarked, and then headed to her room to go to sleep.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

Wow! Thanks for all the reviews. I am so happy that everyone seems to like my ramblings! Keep reading…I need your input.

Well, all our players have been introduced, for the most part; all have been put where they need to be; and the stage is set…where do we go from here?

Remember, Erik is still very much anti-self, but his heart has been softened, over the past seven years, by a little, dark haired nymph named Grace.

THE DAWN THROUGH THE NIGHT

**_Book III – Getting to Know You, Chapters 11-17_**

_March 1, 1879 – present_

CHAPTER 11

Paris hadn't changed much in seven years. Erik and Grace walked down the streets hand in hand, looking in the shops and eating French food and desserts.

He met with his client for a few minutes the day they arrived, but it was mainly a father and daughter day.

Erik's client had recommended a house that he would be interested in buying, so Erik took Grace and they rode over to it. It really was perfect; not much larger than the house in Spain, but a little.

It had six bedrooms, one more than the other house; six bathrooms with running water, a large living room, a dining room, a parlor, a library with study, and a kitchen. The furnishings were brand new, and Erik and Grace both fell in love with it…he bought it that day.

He asked his client for one week to find a governess and get his house in order before going to the building site on a daily basis; they were more than happy to oblige the needs of such a great architect.

He was surprised to find that many people knew him. They knew who he was and had been, but somehow, having a daughter made him an acceptable part of the human race. The rumors were that he had been respectfully married and produced a beautiful child; Erik neither said nor did anything to deny that claim.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Christine picked up the morning paper and headed back into the house and sat at the morning table. Two-year-old Jean Luc crawled up into her lap and indicated he wanted her to rock him. Christine smiled down at him and held him close; he wrapped his tiny legs around her waist, put his thumb in his mouth, and rested against her breast while she hummed and rocked him.

Brigitte walked in and saw the sight and smiled, it was a precious thing to see a mother and child in love with each other. Christine and Jean Luc were inseparable. Christine had started doing some odd jobs; cleaning and mending cloths, cleaning houses…anything she could do to bring in some money.

It was very important to her that she make her own way and learn to support her little family. No respectable man wanted anything to do with her now, she had a child…and that made things difficult. Most men wanted their own children, especially as firstborn.

Christine didn't need a man anyway. Raoul had given her nothing but lies, deception, and loneliness …she even hated to admit that he had given her Jean Luc. The thought of his overly wet, sloppy kisses repulsed her. He hadn't been a particularly good kisser when they were courting, she had hoped he would get better with time…she had been wrong.

Christine was appalled at her lustful reaction to Erik's seductive charm. He was dark, brooding, and unpredictable. His passionate music and the elegant flow of his body had elicited strange yearnings within her to which Raoul could not hold a candle.

She wished now, that she had kissed Erik when she'd had the chance; but she had been very young and naïve, and unfamiliar with the physical hunger he produced in her.

Madeline had become like a mother to her, after her initial loathing of the woman who had birthed Erik. She had proven herself a wonderful, grandmotherly figure with Jean Luc and he loved her dearly. She had stopped needing the wheelchair a few months ago and her full strength had returned, albeit with a permanent limp.

All three ladies had moved in together, for moral support and safety. There were just too many men out there with bad intentions and cruel thoughts; they needed each other to remain able to move about town.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

It was getting toward the end of the week, and Erik had yet to find a suitable governess. Besides Sam and Nancy, he had retained his personal chef, Monsieur Nicolas Fontaine; but the governess position remained open.

All of the applicants so far…had been too young and inexperienced, old and frazzled, or Grace wanted nothing to do with them. He wanted a woman with a child of her own, preferably and he would prefer her to be older than twenty-years.

"What am I going to do Sam?" Erik asked, as the older man moved into the study. "They put the ad in the paper incorrectly also…they said I needed a nanny…I need a governess."

Sam was short, astute looking man with graying blond hair and a thick mustache. His gray eyes were lively and friendly as they observed his employer and friend.

"Don't worry master, she will come…I have faith. And you can set the job description straight when she gets here." Sam said with a smile.

Nancy, Sam's wife, came in and observed the two talking, she knew Erik was getting nervous about having a governess for Grace; but she, too, had faith that the woman would show herself when needed.

Grace chose that moment to bounce into the room and jump into her fathers lap. He held her close to him and relished in the warmth of her small body. She reigned kisses all over his masked face, and then lifted the mask off and kissed his bare skin. Erik laughed at her tickly little lips on his sensitive flesh.

Nancy and Sam had both seen him without his mask, he had barely worn it France, before Grace was born, so they were used to it. His past had become a part of him that he kept locked away, hoping never to bring it up again.

"Master Erik, you really do not need to wear that confounded mask around the house, I am sure it is hot and uncomfortable." Nancy instructed, in a motherly tone.

Erik laughed and smiled at her as he placed the mask back on his face. "I simply must, Nancy, I scare myself in the mirrors when I pass."

Nancy rolled her eyes at him and marched out of the room. She would not tolerate him berating himself, and she would not stand around to listen to him do so. 'Blasted man…needs a woman to keep him straight he does…" she turned her eyes heavenward, "…Lord, please send one quickly.' Nancy mumbled under her breath as she walked out.

The ad had been in the paper all week, and Erik needed to get to the site to oversee the project, but if he did not have a governess for Grace, he would not leave her. It was Thursday, he would give it until Saturday…then he would tell his client he needed more time.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Christine hadn't read the paper all week, for one reason or another. She finally took the time to do so, once she put Jean Luc down for his nap.

Reading the paper had become a joy of hers; Raoul had never allowed her the luxury of reading the paper…he had said it would depress her to read about the terrible things going on the world around them. What he had really meant, was that he did not want her finding out about Erik.

She had read it just about every day for the last four years. Hoping to find something in it that would indicate where Erik was. In her heart, she knew he wasn't dead…she felt certain a part of her, deep down inside, would know it if he were.

It was Friday morning, and she had almost read everything and was about to close the paper when a want ad caught her eye.

**WANTED:**

**Live-in nanny for six-and-a-half-year-old daughter of recently relocated architect.**

**Applicants must be at least twenty-one-years-old with a child(ren) of their own.**

**Pay starts at 500 francs per week, plus room and board.**

**Other staff include live in maid, butler and chef.**

**Apply at 832 Davenshire Street, Paris.**

Christine reread it to make sure she wasn't seeing things. It sounded perfect! She ran in and showed the ad to Madeline and Brigitte.

"I must go today and apply; I have a great feeling about this one." Christine chimed, as she ran off to ready herself.

She would take Jean Luc with her as proof that she had a child. She wore sensible clothing, a long skirt, petticoat, long-sleeved blouse and vest. She left her hair loose and flowing, allowing it to cover her shoulders and curl around her face.

Jean Luc awoke from his nap, happy and cheerful, as usual. She dressed him in long pants, suspenders and a white shirt. His brown curls twirled about his face, making him look even more like her. There was hardly any sign of Raoul in his features, thankfully.

They hailed a cab and she placed him in first and then climbed in after, Madeline and Brigitte saw her off, telling her that she looked fabulous and the job should be hers simply by the looks of her.

The ride seemed to take an eternity, when in fact, it only took twenty minutes. Davenshire Street was one of the richest areas in Paris, and Christine found that she was in awe of the houses around her.

The carriage pulled up to the largest house on the block, at the curve of the cul-de-sac and she stepped out of the carriage, she turned around and helped Jean Luc down. She paid the driver and stood staring agape at the house before her.

It was stunning. The house itself was not the largest she had ever seen, but the beauty was unsurpassed. She took Jean Luc's hand and they walked up the stone sidewalk and banged the knocker on the door.

Nancy pulled the door open and beheld the sight in front of her. God had indeed answered her prayer and sent the perfect woman for the governess position.

"Hello, I am Christine Daae, and this is my son, Jean Luc." Christine offered, "We are here about the nanny position."

"Come in my dears," Nancy stated, as she ushered them into the parlor. "Could I get you some tea?"

"Yes, that would be wonderful…thank you." Christine answered.

Nancy shuffled off to get the tea, smiling as she went. Christine pulled the bonnet from her head and sat down, moving Jean Luc into her lap.

Not much time went by before Nancy returned, carrying a teapot and cups. She poured the tea and sat down across from Christine. Nancy regarded the woman before her; she was quite lovely and not as young as some of the other applicants, but still young.

"Tell me dear, why do you want to apply for this position?" Nancy asked, handing Christine some paperwork to fill out.

Christine took a sip of tea and returned the cup to the coffee table. "Not long after I divorced, I found myself pregnant. I turned to a trusted friend. She helped me get back on my feet after my ex- husband and his family left me with nothing. I have been living with her and doing odd jobs to earn my stay, but I grow weary of not making my own way and supporting my son and me."

Christine stopped and looked at the features of the woman in front of her, she did not look shocked or judgmental, so she continued; she talked as she answered the questions on the papers she had been handed.

"I want the chance to prove to myself that I can do this…I doubt I will ever marry again… Christine smiled, lost in a memory…she snapped out of it to find the woman regarding her strangely, "…this is my opportunity to move on."

It was about this time that Grace skipped into the room, and upon hearing the voice of Christine, she moved forward. She stood beside Christine's chair and stared into the face of the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.

Christine, in turn, looked at the young girl. She was divine; her features were refined and dainty, but her eyes and hair were remarkable. Deep green eyes and raven hair were her most prominent features. She olive tone, perfect skin and a pink, full mouth.

"You're as pretty as angel, the ones they sing about in church." Grace whispered. "Can I touch your hair?"

Christine smiled, making the little girl smile again, "Of course, dear…what is your name?"

Grace reached up and softly touched a curl on Christine's shoulder. She answered in a dreamlike state, "My name is Grace Hannah, but Papa calls me Mon Chéri most of the time, or sometimes he calls me Mon Joli."

Christine marveled at the way this child talked. She was far above her age in language and articulation. Her father must have spent a great deal of money on tutors for her.

Christine pulled the girl into her lap, sitting her next to Jean Luc. The two examined each other for a minute and then they started smiling at each other.

Christine focused on Nancy once again. "She is highly intelligent…where has she been educated?"

Nancy smirked, then replied, "The master has educated her himself. He is a genius in his own right. He taught to her read and write, all of her school subjects, the piano and voice, and he has started her on the harp." The pride in Nancy's voice was quite evident.

Christine was truly impressed; most men took no interest in their offspring, let alone, acting as father, teacher, and musical mentor. She wanted to meet this man.

"The master's wife, when can I meet her?" Christine asked.

A look of sadness and loss rested on the older woman's countenance. "Grace's mother passed away giving birth to her…"

Christine felt the loss of this woman and she hadn't even known her. The older woman acted as though she wished to say more, but she refrained from doing so.

"Come, the master is in a meeting, but you may wait in the library until he is done." Nancy said.

Christine followed her into a large, ornately decorated, fully stocked library, and took a seat in a comfortable chair; getting more nervous with each passing moment.

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

You have made my heart sing with your reviews! Thank you so much for your vast and quick responses!

OperaLover – Here is a breakdown of the ages for you. Jean Luc was born on January 25, 1877 (Chapter 7). If you remember correctly, Christine was married to Raoul for almost four years before they got divorced on May 27, 1876 (Chapter 4). and she was pregnant only one month when the divorce took place. Grace Hannah was born on July 23, 1872 (Chapter 10). There is about 4 ½ years between the two.

Erik is now 32 and Christine is 25.

I hope this clears things up for everyone who may have been confused.

Since you have been so good to me, I will be good to you. I love each and every one of you.

God bless.

THE DAWN THROUGH THE NIGHT

**_Book III – Getting to Know You, Chapters 11-17_**

CHAPTER 12

Erik sat in his study, going over the designs of his latest masterpiece. Mr. Charles Wallace sat across from him, wanting to know the next step to take in the building efforts.

"I think this is going to be the most talked about structure in Paris, Mr. Destler." Charles praised. "I have never worked with or for a man who had as much vision and brilliance as you do."

Erik was not used to having his work or his mind praised, so the only acknowledgment of Mr. Wallace's compliment was a nod of his head.

"So, you have begun to see the method to my madness…I am pleased." Erik finally stated, with a broad smile on his handsome face.

Mr. Wallace returned the smile with equal enthusiasm, "Yes sir, it will be better than the original design by far."

Erik heard a soft knock on his door, "Enter." He stated firmly.

Grace opened the door and ran to his side. She ran and crawled up into this lap, making him chuckle at her soft kisses. He held her in his lap and showed her his designs, knowing that his ability to draw fascinated her; it was a talent she did not possess.

"Grace, I would like you to meet Mr. Charles Wallace; Charles, my daughter, Grace." Erik said, proudly.

Grace leaned into her father, but smiled broadly, "Nice to meet you, Mr. Wallace."

"Likewise, Grace." Charles stated, grinning at the small child.

Charles looked at Erik, "I really do wish you would accept my invitation to dinner this weekend…" he stated, "my sister is anxious to meet you…she's beautiful, I assure you." Charles stated, hoping Erik would decide to come.

Erik nodded, producing a strained smile, "No thank you, Charles…I appreciate your invitation, but I try not to get too close to the fairer sex, they find me repulsive." He spoke so deprecatingly, that Charles almost missed the self-pointed insult.

Erik looked down at Grace, "What can I get for you Mon Chéri…I was in a meeting." He stated; no animosity in his voice, just an inquiring tone.

"Papa, there is a beautiful woman here to apply for the governess position…I love her." Grace announced, knowing that her father would want her to be happy.

"Do you now." Erik said with a masculine laugh.

Grace nodded her head, making her curls bounce briskly. "She has a delightful little boy named Jean Luc, with brown curly hair and big brown eyes…I love him too." She added, winding him further around her little finger.

This was sounding too good to be true to Erik. She sounded perfect. "Show her to the library, I will be finished in about ten minutes, I will come out." He promised.

Grace clapped her little hands and ran to the door. She pulled it open and disappeared. Erik laughed at her antics and looked at Charles.

"Let's wrap this up." He ordered, with a smile on his face.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Christine and Jean Luc sat in the library, just outside of the study. Jean Luc and Grace were occupying themselves with building blocks and Christine and Nancy watched as they played.

The door opened and a man exited, nodding briefly at Christine as he did so. He put on his hat and left the room, headed for the foyer. He was distinguished looking and probably filthy rich.

Christine looked up as a tall, graceful figure emerged from around the open door. Her eyes immediately took in his muscular, lithe form; noting the elegance in his familiar movements…

She moved her eyes up to his face…his left profile was all she could see, but there was something familiar about his movements. His black hair was loose and hung over the majority of his features, but she could see an aristocratic nose and sculptured cheekbone.

Then he turned to face her. Her eyes immediately went to the emerald green eyes staring at her. They were strong and confident in their intensity…she had seen those eyes before. The white mask was the last identifying mark that she needed.

It couldn't be…after all these years of searching and coming up empty. But it was. Erik stood before her in all of his glorious elegance. She felt the power exuding from him, and the familiar tug in her heart; after seven years, he still had possession of her soul.

She had never gotten a good look at him at the opera house. The lighting had been awful everywhere she had been around him. His lair – darkness and shadows shielded his true features; the graveyard – the snow was coming down so hard that she had not been able to focus on his features; and the stage – bright lighting and more shadows.

This man, standing before her…was breathtaking. She knew what rested beneath that cold, porcelain mask – and still, he was awe-inspiring. She stood before him, unable to move, stunned by the man before her.

He wore his hair loose and long; at the opera house, it had been perfectly pulled back and kept away from his face. She noticed the way it framed his face and made him less strict and staunch; but those eyes…would never leave her mind.

Erik turned the corner of the door and noticed his daughter playing with the curly haired boy; he was a cute thing…his eyes and facial features reminded him of…he swept his eyes up…

…Christine.

Erik jerked his eyes away from her as if she had stung him with her presence. His mind was reeling; how could this have happened?…after all these years, the one woman he had ventured to give his heart to, stood before him with the most astonished look on her face.

Erik was careful not to look at Christine; instead, he chose to watch as Grace came toward him and took his hand in hers. "Papa? Is everything alright?" she asked.

He squatted down beside her and pulled her to him for a hug, "Leave us, Grace." He said in soft, soothing tones. Christine closed her eyes at the pull of his voice, which was the same tone he had used with her all those years ago.

He turned and saw Nancy heading for the door, "Nancy, would you please take Grace and Jean Luc to the kitchen and have Nicolas make them something special to eat."

He watched as the light of his life silently left the room, giving him a backward smile as she reached for Nancy's hand. The door closed behind them and Erik didn't move.

Christine could not take her eyes off him. He was even more impressive than she had remembered. He had always been tall; but now, his girth had filled out and his muscles were defined through the fine material of his shirt. He had a light brown hue to his skin tone, where he had always seemed deathly pale.

She remembered the few times she had been around him when he wasn't in full evening wear, they had been rare, but she had caught glimpses of his toned body and the dark hair that covered it in all the right places. Christine knew she was staring, but could not find anything to say. Her mouth was open and her eyes were as big as saucers.

Erik had returned to his previous stance, his back to her; hiding the agony on his face. His voice was low and steady when he spoke; belying the emotional circus going on inside his body.

"What is the meaning of this?" He asked, trying to sound unperturbed, but his words were dripping with malice. "Did you not humiliate me enough seven years ago that you had to come back and finish me off?" He spat, the bitterness creeping back into his voice.

He moved forward and picked up the papers and her handbag from the floor. Christine hadn't even known she had dropped them. She recovered slightly and found her voice.

"We thought you were dead." Christine finally managed to say. "Where have you been, Erik?"

Erik's head rose at the sound of his name on her lips. Had he given her his name? He couldn't remember. He slowly turned toward her, so that his eyes looked into hers. He immediately regretted it, and looked away; the shock in her eyes was too much for him to bear.

Even after all these years, the sight of her still affected him. He and known seven years ago that he would never love another woman; not as he loved her. He had loved Desiree with a quiet, gentle love, the love of a dear friend; but Christine…she made his blood boil.

Bitterness gripped his heart and he knew she was here to play Russian roulette with his heart. He would not fall prey to the powerful sway she held over him.

"Leave…leave now." He demanded, sounding very much like the brooding Phantom. His piercing eyes bore into her with an intensity that left her slightly uneasy.

"I'll do no such of a thing." Christine replied, standing her ground. He was still gallingly arrogant.

Erik's eyes jerked up to hers, not believing that the timid, innocent Christine he had known had just stood up to him without flinching.

"Then I will leave." He turned and glided out of the room, down the hall, and toward the kitchen.

Christine felt the anger coming from him. She used the strength of her voice to stop him, "Erik please…I need this job."

He stopped in his tracks, not believing the pleading he heard in her voice. He slowly, determinedly turned toward her, his eyes mocking her with every word as he said, "Why, pray tell, would the Viscountess de Changy need a job as a lowly governess?"

The biting words he heard coming from his own mouth, served to surprise even him. He could not bring himself to a level of civility; but instead, felt vindicated in his actions.

Christine did not move, but stood looking at him, still not believing that he was there before her, "Raoul and I divorced almost four years ago." Christine admitted, her voice trailing off in the aftermath.

Erik slowly turned his head toward her, not fully believing what she was saying. Surely, she had not divorced Prince Charming…he had been perfect for her…

"I was dying under his family's ridicule; ridicule which he did nothing about." She spat the words out, loathing dripping on every syllable. "He married me and then put me on his mantle…that is all I was to him, a pretty little trinket to place on display."

Erik was surprised at the vehement way she spoke of the man she had loved so much. The man to whom he had relinquished the only woman he would ever love.

"I suspected he was cheating on me…but he would come to me every night and demand his 'husbandly rights'…the whole act sickened me…he cared only about himself." She looked at Erik as she spoke of such things…his face gave no hint to his thoughts.

"We divorced after almost four years…and a month after the divorce…I found I was pregnant. They left me with nothing; no money, no name…nothing." She stated.

Erik did not let his shock at her story show. He kept his features shadowed and his eyes steady.

Christine lifted defiant eyes to Erik, seeking his understanding, "Raoul must never know about Jean Luc."

Erik arose and walked over to the fireplace, moving the logs around with the poker, "I'm sorry, Christine…all I wanted was for you to be happy." He said distantly, his eyes never leaving the fire.

Christine moved to stand behind him, raising her hand to touch the broad width of his powerful shoulder, but Erik must have been aware of her slowly descending hand, and stood up.

"I understand why you need the job, but now that you know that you would be working for me…Nancy will show you out." He murmured; no emotion in his beautiful voice.

His eyes held no remnant of the former passion he had felt for her. Whatever love he had once held for her, had certainly died.

"Erik, please…Grace needs a mother figure…" Christine started, and her words choked in her throat as Erik spun around and loomed down on her.

"Don't even begin to tell **_me_** what **_my_** daughter needs!" He seethed through a clenched jaw.

His face was inches away from hers; livid pools of anger were dancing in his inimitable eyes; this was the man she remembered, unbending and passionate; the man who made her blood race and heart beat furiously. He was everything she remembered him to be, and handsome on top of it all.

"I will not tolerate anyone undermining my role with Grace." He said in a menacingly low voice, which carried all the resounding beauty he possessed. "I believe I said that Nancy will show you the way out."

He dismissed her with a sweep of his hand and the turn of his back. He strolled out the door and down the hall, leaving Christine to ponder the events that had just occurred.

With tears in her eyes and shaking hands, she retrieved Jean Luc from Nancy, who hated to see him go, Grace cried tears of disappointment, not understanding why Christine could not be her governess.

"There are circumstances which cannot be overcome, sweetheart; your father and I…" Christine could not complete her sentence; she looked into Grace's beautiful eyes, so like Erik's…and wondered about the woman who had finally taken his heart and body.

Christine hailed the cab and rode back to Brigitte's in complete despondency. Jean Luc rested against her breast, making sucking noises with his lips as he sucked his thumb; it was time to break him of that habit, but for some reason, Christine wished she could take solace in such a simple act.

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

I must make one correction on my age list. Erik is now 34. There are nine years between him and Christine. I do apologize.

This is not an exciting chapter, but a needed one.

Enjoy.

THE DAWN THROUGH THE NIGHT

**_Book III – Getting to Know You, Chapters 11-17_**

CHAPTER 13

Christine arrived back at Brigitte's with Jean Luc asleep in her arms. She laid him down in his bed, took her coat and bonnet off, and sat down at the kitchen table for a cup of tea.

Brigitte and Madeline sat quietly, watching her complete her tasks, before inquiring as to how the interview went.

Christine was being unusually evasive, having not said two words since she walked back in the door; but her eyes held a certain light that indicated she was not pleased with what had taken place.

"Christine, come on…how did it go?" Madeline asked, her smile a replica of Erik's.

Christine looked into the face of this woman and saw the features of the man she had known for years, but who was still a mystery to her. Her eyes were a different color, but the shape was there; her hair was the same wavy, black tresses that Erik had, and the shape and proportions of the face were his also. Erik was definitely her son.

"There were issues that could not be resolved...he would not give me the job." Christine stated, not quite ready to reveal the entire chain of events.

Brigitte looked wounded, "He? He who?" She asked impatiently.

Christine hung her head and spoke in a quiet tone, "The father, that's who."

Brigitte and Madeline shared concerned looks, Christine looked as though she was ready to collapse at any minute; what had happened to make her seem so diminutive?

"What about the father?" Madeline asked, curious as to why this man had rejected Christine.

Christine shrugged her shoulders and felt her throat constrict, she spoke to herself, not caring that Madeline and Brigitte had no idea of whom she spoke. She would not be able to keep this a secret, so she opened up.

"I never thought he would center that explosive temper on me…but I could see it in his eyes, those beautiful, all-consuming eyes. I'm sure he despises me." She whispered into the air. "I miss my angel and friend."

"Christine…who was this man?" Brigitte injected; there was only one man whom Christine called her Angel. An aggressive pounding began in her heart, "Tell us everything."

Christine looked up with cloudy eyes; she wiped her tears, not sure where to start in a tale that had to be told.

She looked straight into Brigitte's eyes, willing her to read her mind; but finally she murmured, "Erik." Her tone was barely above a whisper, "The father is Erik."

Madeline dropped her teacup and it shattered into a million little pieces. Her hand flew to her mouth in disbelief.

"What did you say?" Madeline asked, hardly believing what she had heard, but praying she had heard correctly.

Christine raised her eyes and sadly smiled through the tears, "Erik is Grace's father."

"He's alive and living right here in Paris." Madeline stammered, leaning over the table at Christine.

Christine got up and went to the woman and put her hands on her quivering shoulders, "He hasn't been here long, he is still unpacking." Her features were strained, "He is a renowned architect and has been commissioned to do a job here in Paris."

"Yes, he's a brilliant architect." Brigitte repeated…she liked the sound of that. "He has a daughter?" Brigitte asked, still in shock. "Why would he need a governess if he has a wife?"

Christine shook her head, wondering the same thing, "The housemistress only told me that Grace's mother died in childbirth."

There was a moment of complete silence as they all grieved for the love that Erik had lost. Christine remembered the look in his eye; loss and pain lingered there, they had been a part of him seven years ago, and they were still a part of him now.

Madeline began gathering her things, and headed for the door. Christine stopped her, "Madeline, where are you going?"

"I must go to him…he needs me." Madeline said, in the same determined tone Erik used most of the time.

"Madeline...listen…he doesn't know that you are here or that we've been looking for him…I am not sure he wants to see you." Christine stated.

Brigitte recovered from the state of shock she had gone into, "We have to talk to him…set things right…" She had that stubborn, willful look on her face that Christine knew all to well.

"No Brigitte, we have to let him be. There was fury in his eyes and in every step he took; he was so cold and indifferent toward me…as if I were an annoying pest buzzing in his ear." Christine cried. "If he can barely tolerate my presence, what is he going to do with you two?" Christine reasoned, "We abandoned him when he needed us most."

Madeline came to Christine and calmed her, "His daughter is my grandchild." Madeline reflected, feeling the ache in her heart to hold her granddaughter in her arms.

"He is very protective of her…as he should be." Christine exclaimed, "I don't think he will take too kindly to our invasion into his life."

"Children need mothers, Christine," Brigitte insisted, "Surely he knows this and will reconsider your plight." Her eyes took on a distant shadow, "I cannot understand why he is made to endure such pain."

"How does he look? Has he been taking care of himself?" Madeline asked, still wanting to know about the man who was her son.

Christine didn't make eye contact; instead, she sat quietly for a few seconds and finally replied, "He has not aged a day; in fact, I'd say he looks younger than he did seven years ago." She smiled, remembering the yearning her body felt at the sight of him. "He seems to have spent time outdoors, his skin is tanned and healthy looking…he's put on some weight, but he still looks too slender."

Madeline smiled through her tears…she did not deserve to know him, and yet, every fiber of her body reached out to him from where she stood to wherever he was at that moment.

"He had always been so slim at the opera house…he never ate well and he wore the loneliness like another set of clothes." Brigitte added, "I am so anxious to see him."

"I am not sure he will want to see any of us, ever again." Christine stated with such sadness.

Brigitte and Madeline both agreed with that, knowing that could very well be the case.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Erik sat in his study, willing the headache to recede, but it was no use. He laid his head down on the desk, cushioning it with his folded forearms. He heard the door open slightly, and looked up to see who it was.

Grace stood at the door looking very put out. She moved slowly toward him, never losing eye contact. Erik felt the guilt creeping into his spine and knew he was in for it.

She crawled up into his lap and placed her small hand on the side of his face, staring deep into his eyes. She wrinkled her brow and cocked her head.

"Why did Ms. Christine leave here with sadness in her eyes?" She asked, knowing he would tell her.

Erik closed his eyes to the pain he saw in his daughter's eyes. He had not intended for any of this to happen. He had always prided himself on keeping Grace happy and content, and now, he could not give her the one person she wanted most…Christine.

She was even more beautiful than she had been all those years ago. What was he going to do? She could take Grace away from him in a matter of days, claiming he was an unfit father and should not be within two feet of her.

"Christine and I are old acquaintances, Grace." Erik began. "I wanted more from the relationship than she did and she made sure I understood that." He finished.

Grace thought about that short, but descriptive answer. "You love her?" She asked.

Erik looked at her assessing, all-to-mature eyes, "I did…once…a long time ago." He admitted. "She broke my heart…"

"Don't people deserve a second chance, Papa?" She said with bright eyes, "That's what you have taught me and it's what I hear in Sunday school every Sunday."

"But Grace, she could take you away from me…" Erik pleaded, holding her tightly against him.

She pulled back from him and smiled the most beguiling smile; it reminded him of Desiree. "Papa, that's silly…no one will ever take me away from you." She promised, "Please bring her back…I want her to be my governess."

Erik bowed his head, knowing he had lost that argument. It was ironic really; he could barter back and forth with the most intimidating executives and attorneys, he could stare down a raging bull – but he could not beat three feet of feminine guile when she put her mind to it.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

The next morning, Erik was in a particularly sour mood, having gotten no sleep the night before. He kept thinking about Grace's words and the light he saw diminishing in her little-girls eyes when he made excuses for not hiring Christine.

He wasn't sure if his heart would survive her intrusion back into his life, but for the sake of his daughter, he had to try. Swallowing his pride and going to her was going to be the hardest lesson of all.

Nancy was cleaning the living area when Erik came in. She immediately noticed that he had a concerned look on his features, one she had not seen for some time.

"She was perfect, Master Erik?" Nancy confirmed, not understanding why he pushed her away; she was the perfect candidate for the job. "She would make a great governess…and that little boy is adorable."

When Erik didn't respond, she went up to stand in front of him. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, and his right hand rubbed his chin as proof that he was deep in thought.

"You know her, don't you?" Nancy asked, seeing the substantiation in his eyes.

Erik looked at her, allowing her to see the slight indication that she was correct in her assumption.

"She's the reason I left Paris in the first place." Erik finally declared.

"You and she have a past?" Nancy pressed.

Erik smiled sadly, "No…I mean nothing to her…" His eyes took a distant gaze, "…but she was everything to me." He turned his back on Nancy, hiding his telltale eyes, "I did everything I knew to gain her love, and eventually…almost lost my sanity…" He bowed his head and closed his eyes, "…I let her go into the arms of the man she loved."

"Master, I've never seen nor heard you act as you did toward that poor girl…she's hardly more than a child…" Nancy stated, "…you, of all people, should have compassion on her…you loved her."

Erik knew she was right, he had changed…or tried to change; since Desiree had spent, what little time she had been granted, trying to make him a better man; she had felt him worthy enough of her love and wanted to marry him…shouldn't that be enough?

"Correction Nancy…I love her…and I always will." Erik corrected, the anguish still buried in his eyes. "But she must never know."

Nancy moved closer to him, adding her strength to his. It was the first time in the seven years she had known him that he had admitted to loving anyone other than Grace.

"She won't hear it from me…but Grace loves her too, Master Erik…what are you going to do?" She asked.

"What I must, Nancy…what I must." Erik murmured.

He put on his hat and cape, grabbed his umbrella and walked out the door. This was not going to be a pleasant encounter, but he knew it had to be done.

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

For my faithful readers, thank you so much.

Enjoy.

THE DAWN THROUGH THE NIGHT

**_Book III – Getting to Know You, Chapters 11-17_**

CHAPTER 14

Christine had awakened with a pounding headache, which is what crying did to her. She had spent the greater part of the night crying for Erik. She could not believe how he seemed to have dismissed her from his life; it was as if he had never loved her at all – and she knew, deep in her heart, that he had.

Of course, she had taken that love and thrown it right back in his face. How could she get him to understand that she had not known him…still didn't know him…not really. She knew an angel, which soothed her broken heart when she grieved for her father; she knew a voice, which coached her on the techniques of singing and gave her own voice the ability to soar to heights she had thought impossible.

But she did not know him as a man. After he revealed himself as a man, she had done the unthinkable and exposed his shame; she had not considered that the mask actually had a purpose…why would a man hide behind a mask? The child in her had thought it was a game of eccentricity.

She found otherwise. The shadows and poor lighting had hidden his features from her, she hadn't even gotten a clear look at the exposed side of his face, let alone what was hidden behind the mask; but his fury had erupted as a volcano and she knew he had a purpose for hiding.

He was livid; but even in his anger…he had never raised a hand to hurt her; in fact, the only time he touched her was when he held her in the grip of his sensuous voice. When she was cognizant of all things around her, he never made a move to touch her.

She had not seen the deformity in its fullest until the night of "Don Juan", when she, once again, exposed his shame…but this time, it was before the world; at least the world, as he knew it. She had not been repulsed or disgusted; in fact, the lighting made it hard to see. The opera was dark and decadent, so the lighting was low and gothic.

She saw enough to know why he felt the need to hide; but there was so much more to him than just a third of his face being malformed and ugly. His voice and eyes captured her with their uniqueness and vitality; his elegance movements and evident brilliance left her speechless and enthralled. By hiding behind that mask and beneath the opera house, he hid everything she found so attractive about him, away.

Now, she knew what he really looked like…and she was even more attracted than she had been before; and now, she was a woman…and not just a woman, but she was a woman who was very much aware of _everything_ about him…and she knew she wasn't the only one.

She made her way downstairs, and found the other two at the kitchen table playing Gin Rummy. Christine was not very good at the game, but she tried. She had never been taught how to play cards, so she was determined to learn.

"Would it be feasible to go to him?" Madeline asked, playing her cards.

Brigitte lifted her eyes and gave Madeline an inquisitive look, "Erik is your son, Madeline. The issues you have with him are completely separate from the issues that Christine and I have with him." Brigitte smiled stiffly, "I see no reason why you can't address them in your own time."

Madeline was terrified at the prospect of ruining what remaining time she had with Erik by saying or doing something wrong.

"I don't even know if I will be able to say anything at all." She responded honestly, "I have waited for that moment for so long…" she shook her head in doubt, "I just don't know."

OOOOOOOOOO

The carriage ride proved to be therapeutic for Erik. He cleared his head and wondered what purpose there was for Christine being plummeted back into his life. He looked to the heavens for guidance, knowing that Desiree was probably watching over him and Grace.

"Does this somehow play into the will of the Lord, Desiree?" he asked the skies. "Part of me wants to strangle her for waltzing back into my life as though nothing ever happened, and the other half of me wants to pull her into my arms and claim her as my own."

Erik considered the insanity of the latter and chuckled to himself…he must be losing his mind to think Christine would want anything to do with him.

He double-checked the address, making sure he had come to correct place. The house was unusually large for a single woman with one child, but maybe there were apartments within the house that rented out individually.

He descended from the carriage, walked toward the door, swallowed his pride and nerves, and banged the knocker on the door.

OOOOOOOOOO

The loud bang on the door startled the women, but it was Brigitte who rose to answer it.

"Don't cheat Madeline; I know you do that when my back is turned." Brigitte tossed over her shoulder as she hurried to answer the door.

She pulled the door open and saw the wide breadth of a man's back. She raked her eyes over his back and admired the expensive suit of clothes and the physique it covered. He was tall and pleasantly shaped, and as he turned to greet her, she knew he would be as nice from the front as he was from the back.

"May I help you, sir?" She asked, as he took his hat off and lifted his head to meet her eyes.

The mask wasn't the first thing she noticed, it was his eyes, accusing and hurt. She put her hand to her gaping mouth and backed away from the door, allowing him entrance.

"Erik!" Brigitte exclaimed with a whisper, shock written all over her face.

Erik successfully hid the surprise he experienced at seeing Brigitte Giry again, after almost eight years. He tried to keep his eyes from sweeping over her familiar features with the longing of an old friend.

"Brigitte." He said contemptuously, "It has been a long time." His deep, melodious voice echoed down the hall; and that was all it took for the other two women to come running to the foyer.

He removed his cape, and placed it, his hat, and umbrella on the foyer table. He turned as Madeline and Christine stopped beside Brigitte and stood in stunned silence.

His heart lurched in his chest at the sight before him. The only woman whose face had haunted him since childhood stood before him. She was just as he remembered her, except for a few signs of aging.

Pride would not allow him to show his shock and ultimate yearning to go to her. He put on another mask; the mask of indifference and mistrust. He noted the all-to-familiar gawking faces before him.

"Ah yes, the familiar stunned fear that I always seem to evoke from the female of the species." He spat with a wolfish smile on his face. He heard the bitterness in his own voice and tried with all his might to control it.

Madeline could feel the lonely fury raging in him, it was the same as when he was a child; but now, he controlled it with strength of mind and will. She approached him, coming to within a foot of him.

Erik watched her approach him through narrow eyes. He noticed the limp she walked with and found he was curious as to how she had obtained it. She stopped directly in front of him.

She found her voice as she stared at the beautiful man before her, "Erik…you're alive."

"Mother," He stated with a nod, "sorry to disappoint, but so far, the dead seem as unwilling to have me as the living."

He stood erect and remote, waiting for her to dare to reprimand him for his insolence, just as she had done when he was a child.

Erik noticed that his mother was still a very beautiful woman. Her raven hair was long and lustrous, reaching to the middle of her back. Her eyes were what threw him; they had been cold and aloof when he had been a child; now, he saw compassion and love in their depths.

"My son…" she whispered, as she reached her had forward to caress his cheek.

Erik stopped her hand with his own, before it reached his face, his eyes were icy green and his hand was like steel, "Don't…." he warned, throwing her hand away from him. "…touch me."

As much as he yearned for her touch, he would not give into the urge. This woman had single handedly destroyed him; admitted her loathing of him…and yet, he could not hate her. Instead, he longed to have her love, even after twenty-five years.

But everyone and everything he loved, was always ripped from him with unprecedented force. He knew this pattern would continue with Grace, he just didn't know when to expect it. Try as he might, he could not stop himself from loving the child he had been gifted with.

Madeline felt the tears coming to her eyes, his blatant loathing took her off guard; she had expected it really, but she had not been prepared for it.

She dropped her eyes and spoke, "I deserve your hate Erik, I know that."

Erik was stunned. "Hate?" He spewed, "I tried, mother…I tried for years to hate you…just as you do me." He looked away, "But I found that I could not."

Madeline lifted questioning eyes, "I do not hate you Erik…I…"

He lifted his hand to silence her, embittered words coming from his mouth, "I outgrew fairytales and nursery rhymes years ago; don't waste their idiocy on me."

Brigitte had not said anything, taken off guard by his presence; she walked up to him and forced him to look at her, "It's good to see you again, Erik." She stated, "Regardless of what you may think…"

Erik interrupted her, not wanting to hear anything she had to say, "As amusing as this must be for the three of you," he tried to sound bored and apathetic, "I'm not here on a social visit …I need to speak with Ms. Daae."

Christine lifted her eyes to his, "shall we go to the parlor?"

"No, here is fine." He looked at her for the first time since he had arrived, "Grace was very upset that I had not hired you…you seem to have found your way into her heart in a very short period of time."

His voice held bitterness as he spoke, and he felt his heart wrench from the longing to escape this nightmare and wake up with his life having some semblance of normalcy.

Christine heard the animosity in his voice. The years that had passed had served to make him even more convinced that he was unlovable; and she was mature enough now to realize that he lashed out at others, especially those he had feelings for, because he feared the price his love would cost him.

Erik stood in front of Christine, but was very careful not to infringe on her personal space; she could tell that he still felt his face and body were repugnant to others, especially women.

"Although I hastily dismissed you, Grace has spoken on your behalf…I am here to offer you the job, should you still desire it." His eyes grew distant and pained, "I am in need of a governess…a woman who will be in charge of my household and carry the same clout as a wife would..." Christine heard the loneliness and disdain in his voice, "…but without the horror of actually being married to me."

Christine did not flinch at his words, nor did she look disgusted or abhorred; 'she is a good actress, after all.' Erik reminded himself.

"Your services would only be needed during the times that I am preoccupied at the build site." He instructed, "You will not be forced to see very much of me…" he saw what he thought was relief flood her features, and his voice softened as his eyes dropped, "…you will be paid every Friday. The money will pass to you through Nancy…"

Christine lifted her eyes and furrowed her brow at this revelation, "It would not be proper for me to put money in your hands…you are a single woman working in the home of a single man; if anyone saw me put money in your hands…your reputation would be scarred."

It was what he wasn't saying that Christine heard the loudest. He still believed his presence was repugnant to her. He thought she could not bare the sight of him; and yet, he was mindful of her reputation and frame of mind.

She must have been scowling or looked worried for Erik shifted away from her further and said with regret in his voice, "Do not fear me Christine…I would never hurt you."

She furrowed her brow and stared him straight in the eye, "I don't fear you."

He raised his chin, assuming she was lying to him; but he brushed his concerns aside.

Erik addressed her again, "Do you accept these terms?"

Christine could feel the pounding of her heart, part of the appeal of the job was being near Erik, and he was refusing her that…she wanted to finally get the chance to know him.

She could find ways to be incidentally around him; she could create opportunities.

She looked into his distant eyes, and was again struck by their beauty, "I accept."

He turned and grabbed his hat and cape, and began to put them on. "You may move your things in on Monday and begin your duties. Nancy will be guiding you through the required steps."

"Erik, there is so much that I need to say to you." She said in a soft tone. She had to say what needed said before he walked away from her, thinking the worst.

Erik looked askance at her and slightly turned his head, as if contemplating what she had said.

"Speak your mind." He voiced with interest.

His voice was so cold and remote and Christine had to force her pain down. Although the beauty was still there, the magic his voice carried was not evident in his present tone.

Brigitte and Madeline walked out of the foyer and went back to the kitchen, allowing them some privacy.

"I'm sorry Erik…" Christine whispered, looking at the floor; chastising herself for the tears that threatened, "…I'm sorry for all that I have done to you." She looked up into his tempestuous eyes, "I didn't even know you that well, and I stood to be counted with those who accused you of crimes simply because they feared you."

Erik continued to stare at her with a blank, unreadable look on his face. Her tears pulled at his heartstrings, and all he wanted to do was take her in his arms; but he hardened his heart and dwelt on the pain and humiliation she had caused him.

"I know that I hurt you…you wanted my love and companionship and I threw it all back in your face." Christine rang her hands together, hoping she did not look as nervous as she felt. "I hope we can be friends and that you will find it in your heart to forgive me."

Erik dropped his eyes and relaxed his stance, letting her know that he had heard her. His voice had taken on its magical quality when he spoke, "You were a child, Christine…there is nothing to forgive." He remarked. "I should have never pursued you."

He stood away from her and was surprised to see that she was coming toward him. He continued speaking.

"I never expected your love, Christine; that would be striving for the impossible." He smirked at the absurdity of that thought. "You reacted exactly as I had predicted you would."

He smiled. Something Christine had never seen him do, not genuinely. She noticed how that one simple gesture took the sternness and weariness out of his features. He really was a very handsome man; but he hid it under a shroud of mystery and darkness.

Erik could not grasp the look on Christine's face. He brushed it aside as shock at being near him. He came forward and took her hands in his gloved ones, "I never blamed you for anything, my dear." He gently smiled, "You did what any other normal girl would have done…" He dropped her hands and headed for the door, but paused and turned to look at her, "…you chose the handsome, young, titled, gentleman over the monster."

He picked up his cape and hat and turned around as Madeline and Brigitte entered the foyer again, ignoring Christine's indication to speak. Brigitte rested her eyes on him, so thankful to have him back in her life, even if she had to earn his friendship all over again.

"We know that we don't deserve the chance, Erik…but Madeline and I and would both like to have the opportunity to talk to you." She insisted.

Erik lifted his chin in defiance, but closed his eyes in submission, "As my daughter so eloquently pointed out to me, everyone deserves a second chance." He looked away from their searching eyes, hoping they did not see the effect their presence was having on him.

Christine asked the question that they had all wanted to ask, "What of Grace's mother, Erik…how did you meet her?"

He had known it was coming, but he had hoped to avoid it tonight. He knew they thought him unworthy of a child and incapable of gaining the love of a woman. This knowledge made him angry more than it hurt him.

He growled the words at her, forcing himself to stay calm, "I did not coerce her in any way; I did not manipulate her, or take unjust liberties with her." His eyes were stormy and sad, "And as hard as it is to believe, she loved me."

He stood proud and stern; not allowing them to cheapen Desiree's memory, "My time with Desiree was pivotal and sacred…she was a breath of fresh air in the stagnant, rancid days that were my life."

He had never felt the emptiness of Desiree's loss as profoundly as he felt it at that moment. The shadows of despair lurked in his eyes and the women present felt the palpable presence of something or someone unseen.

Erik could have sworn he felt Desiree standing next to him. Her sweet laugh and fresh smell were so vivid in his mind. Even if she was not actually there, he felt her strength encompass him and, if only for a moment, he was wrapped in her arms of love; it had a calming effect on his temper.

He looked away from the women before him, a stray smile playing on his lips. He put his hat on his head, pulled his cape around him and opened the door. He turned toward them and tipped his hat.

"Good day, ladies." He quietly stated.

They stood at the door and watched him descend the sidewalk toward the waiting carriage. He was a much different man than he had been seven years ago…but no less of a commanding figure.

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

Put your minds at ease my lovelies, Erik does, IN NO WAY, resemble Raoul…ick! His hair is dark and wavy, framing his face; not dull and floppy like Raoul's was. I compared it earlier in the story to Gerry's look in Dracula 2000. Imagine that look with the white mask….NIIIIIIICE!

This is another one those less than exciting chapters, but it builds on Erik's character and the reflects on the thoughts of the women.

Enjoy.

THE DAWN THROUGH THE NIGHT

**_Book III – Getting to Know You, Chapters 11-17_**

CHAPTER 15

After Erik left, the women conversed about what had taken place.

"He certainly has more control over that temper of his." Brigitte observed. "There were a few times that I felt he was going to lose it, but he kept it under control."

Brigitte thought about the many times she had worked with Erik on his anger issues. He had many reasons to be angry and bitter, but she felt he needed to learn control of these feelings or he would constantly hold people at bay.

Madeline was going over the scene in her head, developing a plan of action, and deciding on the best time to confront Erik again. She had been unprepared for his reaction to her, but she had seen the desire in his eyes for acceptance. He had barely tolerated her presence, and yet he had said he did not hate her; that gave her something to build on.

Christine sat down at the table, playing with the deck of cards. "When we talked, he was very civil, he said he did not blame me for anything that happened all those years ago." She looked up to find Madeline staring at her, "I have grown up since he knew me…" she reflected on times past, "I had never really seen him until yesterday…he was always shrouded in darkness, shadows, or bad lighting…I never knew he was so handsome."

Brigitte came and rested her hand on Christine's shoulder, "He's always been handsome, even as a teenager." She smiled at her with warmth in her eyes, "I know he said that she loved him, but did Erik say he loved this Desiree?" Brigitte asked, looking at Christine.

"I am sure he did, he had a child with her," Christine could not help the sudden swell of jealousy that swept over her, "Erik does not strike me as the kind of man who would be with a woman if he did not love her."

Brigitte shook her head in agreement. She leveled her eyes on Madeline, "She's right, if appeasing his needs was all he was interested in, he could have had anyone, or taken a prostitute."

Brigitte remembered the numerous times she had heard Erik insist that the only women who would willingly touch him would be prostitutes; and then, only after he paid them. He had meant it as a joke, but the seriousness in his eyes had made her doubt that he truly thought of it as such.

He had never gone through with it, deciding that he would not subject a woman to his monsters touch. Brigitte had tried on many occasions to help him see that he was not a monster; but then all the horrible things had started happening at the opera house, and she was no longer convinced herself.

Christine did not know what she felt for Erik. He had been her angel, then her mentor and friend; then he had become a mystery, a feared criminal, and then…a cherished memory. Now, he was back in her life, still shrouded in mystery…but very much a potent, alluring man.

There was nothing preventing her from getting to know him and she was going to see to it that she did. The man had eyes that haunted her dreams and the exposed side of his face was breathtakingly handsome. Oh yes, she was definitely going to get to know him, even if he fought her every step of the way.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Erik returned home, not feeling any better than he had when he left. What was it Christine had said the day she came to apply for the job? 'We thought you were dead' and 'where have you been Erik', he should have known they'd find each other; but why did they look for him? They had all made it clear, at various stages, that they wanted nothing to do with him.

Seeing his mother had been a jolt, to say the least. He had thought she would have moved into a fancy home, be surrounded by servants, and married to some stodgy aristocrat; her looks had always been amazingly beautiful, so she could, quite easily, have any man she wanted.

But Erik remembered the same demons of sadness lurking in her eyes, as lurked in his. What would have caused her to share in his misery? He found himself needing to hear her story and know why she carried such pain in her eyes and walked with a limp.

He poured himself a glass of Scotch, though he had no real love of alcohol; he just wanted to feel the sensation of the cold, stinging, liquor as it slithered down his throat.

Christine's revealing story had given him a start; the fact that she had divorced Raoul, completely baffled him. The man had everything a woman could possibly want; looks, money, prestige, power…why would Christine leave that all behind?

She had known when she left with Raoul that it would be like that. The glamour and glitter were just a façade; nobles lived boringly structured, orderly lives. Erik had known she knew this; and yet, she had chosen that life over any association with him.

She had known that the nobility were seldom faithful to their wives; choosing, instead, to have many mistresses and carry on beneath the very roof their wives resided under. The wives were expected to be faithful, fruitful, and fetching. This was a fact…and yet…she had chosen that over him.

Erik smirked at his own thoughts; he couldn't blame her for choosing as she did, anything or anyone was better than him.

Not even finishing the glass of Scotch, Erik left the study and headed toward the stairs leading to his room. Grace would be very pleased to know that Christine would start on Monday, and he was content in the fact that she would be happy...even if he knew his sanity was going to suffer.

Nancy was puttering about, finishing up for the night when Erik surprised her by coming around the corner.

"Sir, you startled me, I had no idea you were still up." Nancy said, calming her heart.

Erik paused, giving a slight chuckle, "Please accept my apology for startling you…I don't sleep very much anyway, so I was finishing up some paperwork."

"Could I get you something Master, perhaps a glass of warm milk to ease your mind?" Nancy inquired, knowing Erik loved warm milk.

"That would be marvelous Nancy, I'll follow you." He said, as he fell in stride behind her, headed for the kitchen.

He was seated at the table, waiting for Nancy to finish, "Ms. Daae will be here on Monday, Nancy…I will need you to show her around and get her acquainted with how the house runs." He finally said.

Nancy had been wondering what had happened while he had been gone. She noticed the tired, withdrawn expression on his face, and was concerned – she had never seen him this dark and brooding.

All the darkness and gloom, which Desiree had told her about, was back; stationed in his eyes and lingering in his steps. Somehow, that wisp of a woman had chipped away at the wall around his heart and forced him to become her friend. Then, she had given him the ultimate gift…Grace.

"Everything will be fine, Master Erik…you'll see." Nancy felt compelled to say.

Erik knew she meant well, but he had no one to confide in and he had always prided himself on being fearless; but at this moment…he was terrified.

He closed his eyes and sat quietly for a minute. When he looked back at her, he had a strangely distant look on his face, "I could have sworn I felt Desiree guiding me today…her presence was so strong that I could hear her laugh and her scent lingered in the air..." his eyes misted over as a strange feeling ran up his spine, "…it was calming."

Nancy smiled at this revelation, "I, too, have often felt her eyes upon me…I don't believe she would come back from the gates of heaven, but I do believe that angels minister to us at the request of our loved ones." Nancy came over to him and placed a motherly hand on his shoulder, "I know, beyond a doubt, she loved you, Master Erik…her eyes followed you everywhere you went and she always had a smile on her face that only a woman in love has."

One single tear escaped his eye and gracefully moved down his cheek "If only she would have told me, I might have made her last few weeks on earth more enjoyable…maybe even…"

Nancy stopped his thoughts with a shake of her head, "Nothing you could have done would have changed the outcome, Master Erik; it was her time to go…but I do wish you had been given the chance to love her."

Erik stood up and placed a kiss upon Nancy's forehead. She had been his mainstay through the last several years; he could not have made it without her. He bid her goodnight and carried his milk up to his room, still deep in thought.

Could he risk allowing these women back into his life? Brigitte had once been the closest thing to family he had ever known. His mother had always been an elusive dream; a beautiful star just out of his reach, and he could not find it in himself to loath her.

As for Christine; seeing her again caused a reaction that surprised even him. She still had the power to destroy him; physically, emotionally, and mentally. He had no choice but to allow her back in his life, but he told himself, adamantly, that he would not allow her exercise any control over him.

Even as he thought it, Erik knew he would yield his heart to her if she so much as indicated she wanted it. He shook his head at his reflection in the mirror, "You're a fool Erik Destler…an ugly, old fool. She wants nothing more than your friendship, why would she want anything else?"

He felt like slamming his fist against the glass and shattering his grotesque image into a million small pieces. "Nothing…but a fool." He whispered with closed eyes.

He turned the logs in the fire and watched the embers flicker, and then he took off his robe and went to bed. Tomorrow was Sunday, so church was the main event.

He had been baptized Catholic, but Desiree had been Protestant. He felt it had only been proper to raise Grace in the faith of her mother. He had attended Protestant churches in Spain, and he had seen a rather large church just a few blocks up the street. They would attend there tomorrow morning.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

When Christine and Brigitte had decided to support each other through life, Brigitte had expressed an interest in getting back involved in the church. She had gone though a time of disillusionment in the Catholic belief and had decided to start attending a Protestant church.

When Madeline had come along, she had been so long out of the church, that any time spent worshiping, was special to her…it did not matter where.

So, all three of them sat in a pew somewhere in the middle of the church, watching the people come quietly into the sanctuary. They had been attending together for a couple of years now, and there were many good friends in the sea of faces.

From the back of the aisle, came a rumbling of voices. Christine could just make out the chatter coming from a few of the young women; something about a new man in the church. She glanced over just in time to see Erik, Grace, Nancy, and Sam coming up the walkway, toward the front of the church.

Erik's eyes met with hers for only a brief moment, but it was long enough to see the trepidation in his eyes; he hated crowds, and even more than that, he hated crowds full of strangers.

She turned to Madeline and Brigitte, who had already noticed him. They got up and walked over to him. They sat down in the pew behind them, and watched as he settled into the pew with Grace.

Grace mesmerized Madeline and Brigitte; the child was perfect. Her raven curls and green eyes were so much like Erik's, but her mouth, nose and high cheekbones must have come from Desiree. She was a beautiful little girl.

Grace noticed Christine, and was anxious to speak with her; but she sat dutifully with her father, looking back every now and then to make sure she had gone nowhere.

Erik's voice resonated through the building, lifting the songs to heaven as no one had ever heard before. Christine was aware of many female eyes falling adoringly on Erik's very appealing form.

He was dressed in a dove grey suit with a waist length, double-breasted coat, a mauve cravat; crisp, white shirt, and a dove grey tie. He looked impressive, to say the least. His raven hair was slicked back, much like it was in the opera house, but it hung gloriously down his neck in the back; wavy and full.

To match his suit, he had adorned the right side of his face in a grey mask; and everyone was awed by the results. Many of them had heard of Erik Destler, and his fame as an architect; they heard he was tragically scarred in childhood and was a genius in many fields.

Not many in Paris even cared that he had been the Phantom of the Opera eight years before; he was a respectable member of society, and deserved their esteem.

Half way through the sermon, Grace nuzzled up to Erik and whispered in his ear. He smiled down at her and lifted her onto his lap, holding her close through the rest of the service.

Erik was very much aware of the three women behind him, how could he not be. They had rocked his world and they had the power to destroy it. He played the part of a socialite, but he was seething on the inside.

They all wrecked havoc with his heart, and all for very different reasons. He breathed in the sweet scent of Grace's hair, and knew why he was putting himself through the misery…it was for her.

He lifted a silent prayer toward heaven, praying that none of them would feel the need to humiliate him again; the last time had almost killed him. Of course, he was the fool, for allowing himself to care enough to be humiliated in the first place.

When the service ended, Erik held a sleeping Grace in his arms as he fought the urge to flee the premises quickly; but he turned, tipped his head in greeting, and left without saying a word.

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

This chapter may make some of you uncomfortable, we will see. Not uncomfortable in a bad way, just left wondering what is going on this overactive imagination of mine.

Muhaaaaaahahahahahahahahah! You'll never know!

Actually, yes you will…eventually.

There are some French phrases in this chapter that are translated at the end of the chapter. For the most part, Erik converses in English. Sam and Nancy are from England, Desiree was American, so he speaks English to allow Grace to know her mothers language.

Charles Wallace, his client and business partner, is English. The surname of Destler is of British background, so it is entirely plausible that Madeline is English, as was her husband, Erik's father. They could have been in France for business reasons. Christine is Swedish by ancestry, so she could speak Swedish (although, once her father died, she may have had no need to speak this any longer), French, and English, as could Brigitte, since those who were performer often learned different languages.

Erik, however, was exposed to English at an early age, in the home of his mother; then he was exposed to the gypsies, who can speak many different dialects, these just happened to speak French. Then he was in the opera house and heard many languages. He knows several languages, such as French, English, Spanish, and Italian fluently; but prefers French and English

So, there you have it…it may help with this chapter and some in the future.

Enjoy!

THE DAWN THROUGH THE NIGHT

**_Book III – Getting to Know You, Chapters 11-17_**

CHAPTER 16

The women sat still, watching Erik, Grace, Sam, and Nancy leave the church. They were thankful they had had the chance to see him in these conditions.

"He had always said he would never get involved in church again." Brigitte stated, thinking back on a conversation she had had with him years ago.

Madeline smiled, remembering the boy that had been an up and coming scholar in the eyes of the church, "Erik was reading the Bible from cover to cover before the age of five." She stated, "He was a faithful Catholic, even more so than I…I don't know what went wrong."

They kept chatting as they left the church and rode in the carriage toward home. They stopped to pick up a few items for lunch and a paper.

"I suppose that I don't need to look at the 'help wanted' ads anymore." Christine jested, as she sat at the table reading the paper. It was Madeline's turn to cook lunch, so the other two women relaxed.

Brigitte gave her a sideways glance and smiled, "No…I suppose you don't."

"Grace seemed like such a happy child and she loves Erik." Madeline stated. "She looks like him in so many ways."

"She was so well-behaved in church this morning and Erik was loving and patient toward her…he's a natural father." Brigitte announced.

They all agreed on that fact.

"I wonder what kind of a woman her mother was?" Christine asked.

"I don't know, but she must have been very beautiful." Madeline injected, "He must have loved her very much…he has very sad eyes."

"I'm sure she was a wonderful person to have won Erik's heart and produced such a delightful little girl." Brigitte stated.

Again, they all agreed.

Christine quirked her lips and nodded, she picked up the paper and began reading again. The engagement announcements caught her eyes, as a familiar named popped out at her,

"_**The Count and Countess de Changy are proud to announce the engagement of their son, the Viscount Raoul de Chagny, to Baroness Victoria Raetheford, of Great Britain. The wedding is to commence on Saturday on the grounds of the de Chagny estate."**_

Relief flooded over Christine. The de Chagny family would no longer hold any sway over her. They would not risk the alliance the marriage would ensure with the Raetheford family to hunt down Christine and discover Jean Luc. They were finally free.

OOOOOOOOOOO

Erik sat in despondently in his study, looking over some ideas he wished to incorporate into the building plans. He had not completely recovered from the rage that raced through his body at the infringement of his well-orchestrated life by the three women he had so long tried to forget.

Church had become a necessity to him, he felt more in control of his darkness when he was in the church. He had not been on talking terms with God for many years, but he realized that was his fault and no one else's. Now, he felt the presence of God in his life helping him work through the heaviness in his heart left there by years of neglect and torture.

He barely heard the knock on his study door, until it occurred several more times.

"Enter." He stated in a booming voice.

He looked up to find Sam standing at the door awaiting his acknowledgement. Erik lifted his eyebrow and inclined his head.

"Master Erik, Mr. Wallace is here to see you, and he has with him a Miss Tempest Le Roseau." Sam quipped, with a smirk at his lips.

He had been expecting his client, Mr. Wallace; but who was the woman?

"I'll meet them in the parlor, Sam…" he continued his assessment of the work in front of him, until Sam cleared his throat. Erik looked up into impatient eyes, "…I'm coming." He remarked as he stood up.

Sam smirked again, and patiently waited until Erik walked toward the door. "She's not here to see me, Sam…don't go getting any smart ideas." Erik clipped, still smiling.

'Honestly, you'd think I had a chance at finding love, the way those two try to play matchmaker.' Erik thought, as he remembered the numerous times that Nancy and Sam had mentioned certain females they felt were worthy of his attention.

He entered the parlor, and immediately laid his eyes on Miss le Roseau. "Erik Destler, I would like you to meet my sister, Tempest Le Roseau." Charles stated with a smile, "Tempest, Erik Destler."

She was wearing a lavender gown, which emphasized the blue in her eyes so perfectly. She smiled a mesmeric smile as he came toward her. She was quite beautiful; rather curvaceous with long, blond hair. She carried herself with a great deal of confidence, something Erik found very attractive in a female.

"M. Destler, c'est un honneur pour vous rencontrer finalement." (1) Her silky voice caressed his spine.

Erik took her offered hand in his gloved one, and brought it to his warm lips for a kiss. Hearing his native French spoken from her lips was a wonderful gift. Erik had started speaking English more and more, as most of his clients and contractors were from the British Isles.

"Enchanté." (2) Erik purred, his green eyes sparkling without him being aware of it. Just knowing that this woman had been interested in meeting him, made him nervous. "M'appeler veuillez Erik." (3)

She smiled sweetly, and gave a small curtsy.

"How is that you do not share your brothers last name?" Erik asked, still speaking in his native tongue.

"He's my half-brother actually; we share the same mother." She answered with a flutter of her lashes.

Erik nodded his understanding and focused on Charles. They spent the next thirty minutes talking about a new supervisor being recommended to oversee the workers.

"I feel sure that he will be excellent in the position." Charles stated.

Erik looked over the papers once more, knowing that the man was well qualified and seemed to be a hard worker.

"I will speak with him tomorrow at my office, 9 am." Erik finally said, closing the file and getting ready to stand up.

"Am I being presumptuous by asking that you take one evening and get to know my sister?" Charles whispered. "She has really been hesitant to meet anyone, and you are the first man, in quite a while, she has seemed interested in."

"Charles, I have no idea how to proceed when it comes to the fairer sex." Erik commented, "Are you sure she is interested in me?"

Charles smirked at the unbelieving tone in Erik's voice, "Yes Erik, I'm sure."

Erik inclined his head, walked past Charles, and went to where Tempest sat, looking at some sketches of Erik's.

"Mlle Le Roseau, me feriez-vous que l'honneur de dîner avec moi le mercredi soirée... nous disent autour 7 P.M.?" (4) Erik asked.

Tempest inclined her head to the positive, allowing a smile to grace her beautiful face.

"Je vous prendrai à 6:30 P.M." (5) Erik stated, and once again placed a kiss on her hand.

He cast a questioning eye toward Charles, "I can't believe I let you talk me into this."

Charles just grinned as he led Tempest out the door.

**_French to English translations……_**

Mr. Destler, it is an honor to finally meet you.

Enchanted

Please, call me Erik.

Miss Le Roseau, will you do me the honor of having dinner with me on Wednesday…shall we say around 7 pm?

I will pick you up at 6:30 pm

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Erik lay in his bed contemplating what it was about him that would make a woman like Tempest le Roseau interested in him.

Desiree had told him many times that he was attractive, but he had never believed it; still didn't. But, Desiree had loved him, he knew that know…and Tempest wanted to spend time with him. What would possess either to them to want to be with him?

Numerous women had pursued him, on various occasions, in Spain; but he had never taken any of them seriously. Could it be that he did have something to offer a woman?

Erik shook himself out of his dream world; he certainly wasn't going to hold his breath, expecting the evening to go well. She would see him for what he really is and want nothing more to do with him, of that he felt certain.

Christine had seen what he really was, and had ended up falling into the arms of the only other man in her life; albeit, a handsome man. But, Erik felt remorse for the fact that Raoul had obviously not been the man for Christine, and it was his fault she had married him. He would apologize to her for that.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

The next morning was full of activity, Christine had packed a great deal of her things over the last couple of days, but she still had a few things to contend with. She was not taking any furniture items, for her or Jean Luc; not that she had anything really, just a few odd pieces that Madam Giry had rounded up. Erik had stated that the house was fully furnished and all rooms were ready for occupancy.

Madeline and Brigitte were going to accompany her and help her settle in, as well as get to know where Erik lived. She knew that Erik would not be there when she got there, for he had told her so.

"My goodness, the place is a mansion!" Brigitte exclaimed, as they approached the house. Sam appeared at the door, and several men came out to unload the items from the carriage.

"Sam, this is Brigitte Giry, a dear friend of mine who is like my mother; and this…" Christine introduced Madeline, "…is Madeline Destler."

Sam did not react at first; then he looked at Madeline with inquiring, interested eyes, "Destler…are you related to Master Erik?"

Madeline smiled, and Sam saw the resemblance… "Yes, I am his mother."

The look on Sam's face said it all. His eyes were dancing with merriment, "His mother…this just keeps getting better and better."

They carried Christine's and Jean Luc's things up the stairs to the left corner of the second floor; Christine's room attached to a separate room, which was specifically designed for a small boy.

'When had Erik had time to design this?' Christine wondered.

Toys, clothes, books; everything a little boy could possibly want, was neatly displayed in the room Jean Luc was to occupy. He ran in and immediately started making himself at home.

"Did Erik do this?" Christine asked, tears in her eyes.

Nancy nodded, "Yes, he worked on it for most of the day yesterday, and part of the night before." Nancy smiled at the happy giggles of the little boy in the room, "He wanted Jean Luc to feel at home."

Christine marveled at the complexity of the man. He disguised his tenderness under a mask of austerity and somberness; and yet, he always thought of others before himself and could not prevent his true heart from being seen in his eyes.

"What time is Erik due home?" Christine asked, after they had finished putting everything up.

"He won't be home much before seven tonight." Nancy answered.

She was disappointed by the late hour in which he was expected home, but she knew she could use the time to outline Grace's day and set up a schedule of activities.

It was about that time that Grace woke up from her sleep and padded into the room where everyone was talking. She stood for a few minutes and immediately ran to Christine.

"Ms. Christine…it is so good to have you…" Grace stated with joy. "I'm sorry I didn't get to speak to at church yesterday…they wore us out in Sunday school running Bible relays…" her face lit up in an animated smile, "…but I won!"

Madeline could not believe her eyes. This child was so like Erik in many ways. Her dark eyes and hair were his as well as her mannerisms.

Grace acknowledged Brigitte and Madeline with a nod of her curly head, "Hello, I'm Grace Hannah Destler." She said, offering her small hand as an offering of greeting.

Madeline was fighting back tears as she squatted down to the child's level and introduced herself with a beautiful smile, "Hello Grace, I'm Madeline."

She chose to keep her relation to the child to herself at this time, not sure how Erik would react to her barging in and telling Grace that she had a grandmother; but she so longed to embrace this child with her arms just as she had done with her heart.

Grace accepted the introduction and moved to Brigitte, "Hello Grace, my name is Brigitte Giry."

Brigitte also chose to keep her friendship with Erik a secret. He was not going to react well to them coming to his home in his absence and making his daughters acquaintance; but she would deal with that when the time came.

Nancy watched proudly as Grace behaved as the little lady her father had taught her to be. Erik had made sure she was well educated in all things and aware of proper etiquette and behavior.

After all introductions were made, Brigitte and Madeline left, giving Christine and Jean Luc big hugs knowing they would not be together as often now.

Christine sat quietly in her new room, admiring the décor that Erik had used. He had impeccable taste that showed through in every thing he did. His clothes, his home, his speech; everything…he was the most elegant and distinguished man she had ever known.

He had remembered her love of the color lavender, and had used it as the main color for her room, accented by rose pink and sage. The room was friendly and warm, just as Christine would have made it…why would he go to so much trouble?

She was finishing hanging up clothes and putting her stockings and underclothes in her drawers, when she heard Erik and Grace in the hallway.

"It was wonderful, Papa." Grace exclaimed, "I got to meet two new people when Christine moved in."

"Did you! Were these people young children like you or old grumps, like me?" Erik responded, a smile in his tone. Christine smiled at the teasing beauty in his voice.

Grace giggled at his words as well. Christine was so wrapped up in the moment that the panic took a few minutes to hit. Grace was going to tell him about Madeline and Brigitte!

She raced to the door just in time to hear, "Papa, you're silly…they were two nice ladies named Brigitte and Madeline."

The look on Erik's face was one of sheer fury. He lifted his angry eyes to Christine as she leaned against the doorframe. His features spoke volumes. Not only did Christine see the fury in his eyes, there was something else lurking in their depths…

"Papa, I missed you…why do you have to be away?" Grace asked, still not aware that Erik was seething.

Erik turned toward her, all fury gone from his eyes and face. His daughter had never seen him mad, and Lord willing, she never would.

"Mon Joli, I have to be at the site where my building is being built, they require my input on many things and it is easier if I am there." He cooed, pulling her closer.

Grace accepted that answer, but Christine could tell that she was not pleased with it. "Do you suppose I could come down there with you some time and see it?" She asked with hope in her little voice.

Erik stood up and lifted her effortlessly into his arms. She hugged his neck and kissed his left cheek.

"I will see to it, Mon Joli." Erik stated, kissing her back. "Now, let me talk to Ms. Daae in private…I'll be down in a little while to eat dinner."

He watched as she ran down the stairs to the music room, she wanted to play the piano and enjoy some time with music; Erik, again, reflected on how like him she was.

He turned his eyes from Grace's retreating figure to the woman watching him from the entrance to her room.

Christine had watched him be so tender and fatherly with Grace, she marveled at the difference in him when he was in her presence. 'How could I have ever been afraid of him?' Christine thought to herself.

Although, the man looming down on her was enough to make her heart skip a beat. Even in fury, he was graceful and elegant and his movements were uncannily agile and svelte.

Erik, moving like lightening, pushed her against the doorframe, pinning her between him and the hard surface of the wood.

"How dare you." He seethed, "Bringing those two into my home without my permission…" he was so close that Christine could feel the warmth of his breath on her face, and smell the intoxicating scent of his cologne. "I never said I wanted them in my home."

"It was only Brigitte and your mother…" Christine started, but was stopped by the threatening way he lowered his eyes and voice; its ominous beauty leaving feathery touches of foreboding up her spine.

"Don't even speak of them to me…" he stood over her as a predatory bird guarding its prey, "…all of you joining league to drive the final nail in my coffin."

Christine was strangely aroused by the closeness of his hard body. He was the single, most powerful man she had ever known; he did not need the persona of the Phantom to accomplish that. He oozed power and superiority from every pore in his body.

Christine looked baffled and shook her head to clear her mind, "What are you talking about Erik?" She asked, not understanding his venomous tone.

Erik knew this had been a mistake…pinning her beneath him like this. He reacted to her supple, female curves in a very male fashion, and it sickened him. His accursed body had betrayed him many times over the years, and more often than not, this woman was involved….Erik was losing his patience.

He pulled away from her, as though burned, lifted his chin defiantly, and glided down the hallway toward his room. He would deal with this later; right now, he wanted to be with his daughter.

Christine watched his stubborn, retreating back and smiled. She had felt the arousal in him and had seen desire burn in his eyes. This was going to be a challenge; her feminine charm against his formidable willpower…and in the end, she prayed he would end up in her arms.

She could not understand why he reacted as he did, but she would continue to push his buttons, if for no other reason than to get a rise out of him. She laughed at the double meaning her thoughts held.

TBC


	17. Chapter 17

I am wiping the tears from eyes—you have all been so good to me!

Let me take this moment to thank the list of regular reviewers:

(In alphabetical order)

Gerardphantomhot

IdrilFineal

Isah Underhill

Mini Nicka

Mlle.Fox

Okibi Chan

OperaLover

Pertie

Terpsichore314

Tink20

Twinkle22

Umasama

I want to thank each of you for taking time out of your busy schedule to visit my story, almost on a daily basis.

I have to also recognize MastersofNight for finding the story and reading at my request. Thanks for listening.

And thank you fictionreader, for stopping by, I hope you will become a regular; and thanks for the "Sound of Music" comparison, I hadn't thought of that.

This is a really long chapter for me, but there was a lot to bring out. Hope your attention spans will allow you to read it in its entirety.

Many of you will probably want to strangle Erik after this chapter…he's just so stinkin' stubborn and self-loathing…but he will get better, and he will learn some lessons in the process.

Enjoy.

THE DAWN THROUGH THE NIGHT

**_Book III – Getting to Know You, Chapters 11-17_**

CHAPTER 17

Erik came home from the worksite the next night; bathed, dressed in an immaculate green silk suit, and headed down the stairs. Beside him was Grace; as impressively adorned as her father.

Christine intercepted him at the last stair, raked her eyes over his attractive form, and smiled down at Grace. Erik looked magnificent and smelled even better, but she purposefully focused her sights on Grace.

He frowned at her presence, knowing she surely had something to do, somewhere to go, or someone to see.

"Christine, your services are not needed once I come home, don't you have something you would rather be doing?" he asked, looking concerned.

The smile faded from her face as she realized he was intending to leave, "Actually no, I rarely go out."

He gave a curt smile and moved past her, reaching for his cape and hat. She turned and watched him prepare to leave. He put a light cape over Grace's shoulders and took her hand.

"You have a meeting tonight?" She assumed.

Erik regarded her with a strange look, "Yes, I suppose…in a way." He chuckled. He had helped institute and had been supporting several orphanages for years. Even when in Spain, he had made sure his money found its way into the hands of those responsible for the welfare of the children in each one.

The children housed within the orphanages were deformed, seriously ill, mentally challenged, or underprivileged. They had known little happiness in their short, dark lives…and Erik had a deep, ingrained need to lessen their suffering.

He never wanted a less- than- perfect child to go hungry, be cold, feel unloved, or have no dreams or future; these children, due to no fault of their own, had been abandoned by their parents or orphaned.

He would make sure that each child had a chance at life, even if it took his entire fortune to accomplish it.

"Would you like to come, Madam Christine?" Grace asked, not seeing the look of panic cross her fathers eyes.

Christine hadn't seen it either, her eyes were focused on Grace. "Where are you going?" She asked.

"Papa makes music and does magic tricks for the children at the orphanage." Grace bragged, "I go with him and play games with them and read to them."

Erik refused to look at Christine; choosing, instead, to keep his eyes on Grace.

Once again, she was at a loss for words. There were so many contradictions from what many, including her, had once thought about him.

"I would love to come, just let me get my handbag." Christine replied. She scurried off as quickly as she could.

Erik knelt down and straightened Grace's coat, she smiled at him at giggled, "I'm so glad Madam Christine can come…aren't you, Papa?"

Erik smiled stiffly, hoping Grace did not see the reservation in his eyes, "If it makes you happy, it makes me happy." Erik lied.

Christine returned and they headed out the door to the carriage. Erik helped Grace in and then took Christine's arm to help her. He didn't even think about it before he did it. He realized, once seated, that she did not pull away from his touch…he found that fact…odd.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The "Suffer the Children" orphanage was one of three orphanages supported by Erik. He had not visited this one since new management was hired and renovations done; this was a special night.

It was located about five miles away; and from the outside, it was an imposing structure. The architecture was gothic and archaic, and reminded Christine of a mausoleum.

Erik led the way through the large, granite-looking doors, and they found themselves in a large, warm, friendly environment; a young, professional looking woman immediately greeted Erik.

She bowed her head in acknowledgement of his presence, raking her eyes over his handsome form, appreciatively. "Mr. Destler, it is so wonderful to finally meet you." She whispered. "You helped create this refuge and have supported it for years…it is an honor to have you here."

Erik brushed off her gratitude with a slight nod and immediately focused on the conditions of the building.

"Are there any repairs that I can tend to for you?" He asked.

The young woman smiled sweetly, "No Mr. Destler, the money you send every month more than provides adequate funds to cover repairs and other expenses."

"Is there plenty of room for all the children?" Erik asked, completely oblivious to her flirting eyes.

"Oh yes, we have room for growth, but one can only pray that there will be no children abandoned and left in this place." She said, distantly.

After a series of question and answer, Erik proceeded into the music room, followed by a hoard of children, staff, Grace, and Christine.

He played the piano to a riveted crowd and then did magic tricks that awed everyone present. Christine remembered the way he had caused illusions in his lair to keep her from being frightened while winding downward toward his home.

He explained his mask in the middle of his performance and let them know how he had allowed his deformity to make him a reclusive and horrible man, and he had shunned the human race all of his life. He told them that they needed to rise above their circumstances and be what they had the inclination to be.

After he finished, Christine stood back as Erik talked to several of the staff members. He was giving them instructions; and then she saw him give them a small bank bag. She heard the amount of 100,000 francs and then heard him pledge to give that amount every month; he had wealth beyond what she had ever known.

Christine could not help but admire the man that Erik was. He was warm, generous, humorous, and sacrificial; apparently, from what she had heard, he had been this way for years…but no one had ever taken the time to know him.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

They had been out about three hours, which was enough to exhaust Grace. She was sitting in Christine lap, looking out the window until she started nodding off. She pushed down from Christine, and headed for Erik's lap. She curled into his strong, secure embrace, and fell asleep.

Erik chanced a glance at Christine. She was intoxicating, even in, what he would term, a drab evening dress. She must have had no money for wardrobe items; actually, he had seen her meager clothing choices, she had very little, he could see that now.

She had been divorced for several years now; surely, she had a man in her life.

"Christine, in the evenings, after I come home, you are free to do as you wish. I am sure you have a young man waiting at bay to sweep you off your feet." Erik stated, looking out the window at the night sky.

She turned her eyes to him and noticed his aloof distance. She replied quietly, "There is no one."

The only indication that Erik had heard her was the lowering of his eyes. His masked cheek was to her, so she could not see his face.

"You are a beautiful woman, Christine…don't let Raoul's betrayal and foolhardiness prevent you from finding happiness." His equally distant voice stated. "You deserve it."

Christine stared at him, waiting for his eyes to meet hers. She had a smirk on her face; two could play this game.

"Why don't you have a woman in your life, Erik?" Christine challenged, "Desiree has been gone for almost eight years…you can't have tasted love that one time and now, no longer want anything to do with it."

Erik's look grew irritated and impatient, "That's different." He stated, brusquely.

She smiled and shook her head, "How is that different?"

Erik meant her challenging eyes with sternness, "You don't know all the facts."

"Enlighten me." She whispered, as Grace began to stir.

She saw him balk from her challenge. She realized at that moment, that the only person, who kept Erik from happiness, was Erik. He couldn't see past his mask, and he expected no one else to see past it.

"Some other time, perhaps." was all he said, and then he spoke no more.

Watching him rest his chin atop Grace's head and nuzzle her hair, made Christine ache. He was a wonderful father and he totally enchanted her; he was complex and puzzling one minute and uncomplicated and enlightening the next; but he never ceased to amaze her.

After Erik laid Grace down in her bed and placed a tender kiss upon her forehead, he closed her door gently and turned toward his room.

He had forgotten to inform Christine about the need for her services tomorrow night. He tapped gently on her slightly open door and waited for her to answer.

Christine came to the door not too long after he knocked, and was surprised to see Erik standing there.

"I failed to inform you earlier, that I have a dinner engagement tomorrow evening and I require your services. Are you free?" His tone was reserved and distinct.

Christine lifted her brows and pursed her lips, "Of course, I have no plans."

"I will pay you for the added time, of course." Erik assured her. "I will be home briefly to bathe and shave, but I will be gone from 6 pm until probably 10 pm." He gave no indication of what his dinner was about, "I will check on Grace when I return." He nodded, turned, and headed for his room. He had not gotten far, when he had another thought, "I will leave the address where I will be, just in case you need to contact me."

He nodded once more and disappeared into this room. Christine wondered about this dinner engagement he had to attend.

'It must have something to do with his building plans and clientele.' Christine said to herself; but there had been something in his eyes that caused an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, 'You're just being ridiculous, Christine.'

And with that thought, she slid under the covers and let sleep claim her.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

The day went by so wonderfully. Grace was an absolute delight, from the moment she arose in the morning until she went to bed at night. This was Christine's third day on the job, and she was very happy.

They went for a walk in the park and played on the swings, they watched the birds flock around an old woman who kept feeding them; and they went to the museum of art and history.

Jean Luc was exhausted by the time they got back to the estate, but Grace was wound up and ready to run a marathon. They were all in the kitchen, baking cookies, when Erik stepped in. She had missed seeing him come home, but she couldn't miss him this time.

He looked resplendent in a black silk, double-breasted suit, black silk shirt, blood red cravat and black tie. He wore fine leather gloves, and wore his hair loose and combed back. Instead of the usual white half-mask, he wore a black-half mask, making him even more distinguished and dashing looking, if that was possible.

Christine had to catch her breath as she openly admired the man before her.

"Erik, you look absolutely splendid." She complimented. "You always look so handsome and debonair, but tonight you look…even more so."

"Papa…you look really nice!" Grace squealed. She smiled from ear to ear, covered in flour. "I won't touch you since I would get flour all over you."

Erik raised his exposed brow and frowned, "Well, if you consider deformed old men handsome, then I would win the prize every time." He jested, winking at Grace.

His tone was light, but Christine knew he believed himself hideous and ugly. How he could stand in front of a mirror, looking at the same form that stood in front of her now, and not see how beautiful he was; was beyond her.

Grace just giggled, knowing he was the most handsome man there was, "Papa, you say such things all the time…you're so funny!" She giggled some more, "You're not old!"

Erik laughed; a hearty, full sound that rippled up Christine's spine, "Oh Grace, you're good for my soul…but I'm an antique, child…positively ancient!"

Erik walked up to Grace, bent over her, and placed a kiss on the top of her head. "I will look in on you when I get home, Grace…but you'd better be asleep." He teased, again with a wink.

This time she just giggled and went back to stirring the cookie dough.

He nodded to Christine, bent over Jean Luc's tiny, curly head, and gave him a kiss.

"Good night, little man." Erik said softly and tousled his hair.

Jean Luc smiled up at the tall man who played with him. "g'ni," was the closest Jean Luc could come to "good night".

The three of them watched him leave; then turned to the task at hand.

They had baked, or rather, tried to bake, five dozen cookies; but Christine was certain that more of the dough had ended up on Grace and Jean Luc, rather than in the oven.

Nancy walked in, about two hours later, and saw a spent Christine and two smiling children, sitting over the spoils of the night.

"Want a cookie, Madam Reynolds?" Grace asked with a bright smile.

Nancy could not help but smile, take a cookie, and bite into its sweet, crisp goodness. They really were tasty.

"They're very good, Grace…you all did a grand job!" Nancy stated with elation.

"Thank you!" Grace chirped.

After Christine had gotten the children cleaned up and in bed, she sat about cleaning the kitchen. Nancy came in and began to help, knowing that Erik would be home soon.

"This must have been an important dinner meeting; Erik looked unusually sharp and distinguished tonight." Christine notated.

Nancy looked at her with a sly smile and finally commented, "Erik's not at a business dinner…he had a dinner engagement with a lady friend."

Christine's head bolted up at that news, and she felt the sting of jealousy swelling in her heart. She could have gone the rest of the night and not known, and probably been the happier for it.

"A lady friend?" Christine asked, trying to keep the shock out of her voice.

Nancy thought nothing of the strange look on Christine's face, "Yes, she's the sister of Master Erik's client, Charles Wallace; well, his half-sister, anyway." Nancy added, "Her name is Mademoiselle Tempest Le Roseau; she is blond haired and blue eyed; probably in her mid to late twenties, beautiful…and completely enamored with Master Erik."

Christine was horrified, to put it mildly. She had allowed him to walk out of this house and into the arms of another woman.

Christine looked away from Nancy and looked to the pile of dishes that weren't going to wash themselves. "Well, I must get these done and head to bed."

Which was precisely what she did.

OOOOOOOO

Erik had not known what to expect out of the evening, never having actually taken a woman out to dinner before. He was nervous and exhilarated at the same time.

Standing inside the door, waiting for her to come down the stair to him, was maddening. But the sight he saw, as she descended the stairs, was worth the wait.

She was certainly pleasing to the eyes. Erik could not believe this beautiful woman wanted to be seen with him, but she had assured him she did.

"Mlle Tempest, vous semblez renversant." (1) Erik purred, as he bent over her hand and offered a kiss to her wrist.

Tempest felt a thrill run through her at the touch of his warm lips. She smiled at him as he rose from her hand.

"Merci, Erik... ainsi vous font." (2) Her eyes raked over his handsome frame, letting him know with her eyes that he was magnificent.

Erik offered his arm and escorted her to the carriage. He helped her up into the carriage and took the seat opposite her.

She was a petite woman; Erik felt as though she could easily break in two if he so much as bumped into her. He wondered why she was in her mid-twenties and had never married; for she was beautiful woman.

He felt inclined to ask, "How is it, Mlle. Tempest, that you are in your mid-twenties and have never married?"

Tempest smiled up at him, her eyes slightly sad, "I came close to marriage, about five years ago." She swallowed hard, and went on. "My fiancé was a renowned jewelry designer and salesman…one evening he was killed when two thieves broke into his jewelry store and tried to rob it...they stabbed him to death."

She paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts. "It took me months to be able to even enjoy the company of other men; and those months have turned into five years." She smiled despite the pain she was feeling, "He had been scarred, horribly, on the left side of his face and body, several years before I meant him. He was…" her eyes drifted away in thought, "…in a fire."

Erik was intrigued by her story. This beautiful woman had been in love with a disfigured man. He watched her features as she spoke of him.

"He was several years older than I am, and he had shut himself away from the world, thinking his scars made him repulsive to others; when, in reality, he was the one who allowed it to prevent him from living."

She rested her eyes on him, seeing in him a man she could truly enjoy being with; but he carried the weight of another with him. She smiled sweetly at him as he studied her features.

"You love her, don't you?" Tempest suddenly asked, as they approached their destination.

Erik cocked his head and frowned, "Who?" He asked.

"The one who owns you…heart and soul." Tempest whispered.

Erik ignored her premonition, and shrugged his shoulders. Once the carriage stopped, Erik stepped down from the carriage, turned, and helped her down. She smiled up at his tall figure, brought her tiny hand up, and caressed his sculptured cheek.

They walked, with her on his arm, into the restaurant. Erik was very popular around town. The merchants and business owners knew him for the architect he was and knew he was filthy rich.

They were seated in a quiet, secluded corner of the establishment and Erik ordered a bottle of the finest wine.

"Your daughter is delightful." Tempest finally said, after they were settled. "She resembles you in many ways."

Erik raised his twinkling eyes, and smiled, "Thank you."

Tempest studied his eyes, and knew he held a deep love for someone…and she cringed at the knowledge. She wanted to get to know this man, but she did not want to have to compete with the ghost of a dead wife or the memory of a lost love.

Charles had given a brief, but disturbing, glimpse into Erik's past. She knew he had suffered greatly, both physically and mentally.

Dinner was a quiet affair; they both enjoyed well-prepared French cuisine and drank the wine in moderation.

They discussed many different interests and the subject of her near marriage came up again.

"Jacque, my fiancé, was a refined and genteel man. He had an astounding intelligence that shone in his eyes and every word he spoke was articulate and deliberate." Tempest reflected.

She brought her thoughts back to the present moment and focused her eyes on Erik. "I loved him for so many reasons…but he was not a handsome man." Her eyes drifted to Erik's exposed features. "You, on the other hand, are a very handsome man, on top of being immensely intelligent and cultured."

Her words strummed a familiar tune in his head. He certainly did not see himself as handsome in anyway, but several women he had known, including Tempest, had told him he was, but there was still the matter of getting past the parts of him that no one could consider attractive.

"Charles has told me a few things about you; as much as he could without losing your confidence." She stated with a smile, "I have studied you for some time, Erik…and I know of your past…do you ever compose or sing anymore?"

Erik smirked at the question; people did not understand the artistic mind, "I could no more stop composing than to stop breathing…it is…a part of me." His voice had taken on a different luster, one that was completely lost on Tempest.

Erik smiled at the daft look on her beautiful face, "As for singing…I sing to Grace and…in church…but that is about it."

Singing held one woman in its embrace, and he could never have her…so he had to limit his use of that gift, or he would lose himself in it.

"Music has long been a mystery to me…I love to hear it, but I do not understand it." Tempest admitted.

"Many don't." Erik murmured.

Dinner was finished, and Erik pulled her chair out and helped her out of her chair. He placed her shawl over her dainty shoulders and led her to the doors. He had paid the server and thanked the host as they left.

Erik led her to an outdoor chessboard, "Do you play?" he asked.

She vigorously shook her head in the negative. "I was never allowed to learn such things, my father was a traditionalist."

"Would you care to learn?" Erik inquired, with a lifted brow.

After a half hour of going over the basics with her, she still had not grasped the concept of the game. Erik brushed his disappointment aside, and called the carriage over.

"I enjoyed tonight very much, Erik." Tempest affirmed, as the carriage rolled toward her home.

Erik smiled; showing straight, white teeth. It was rare for people to have the means to take care of their teeth. Either he had been wealthy for the greater part of his life; or, he had been blessed with good teeth.

"I am pleased, Tempest." He bowed his head in acknowledgment of her compliment.

Tempest felt tears coming to her eyes, she knew he was wrestling with memories of another woman; a woman whom he loved, whether he admitted it, or not.

"Will I see you again, Erik?" Tempest finally asked with a nervous flutter in her stomach.

She knew his heart was not in it; he had asked her out, more to please her brother, than to get to know her.

"Tempest, you are a beautiful woman and there has only been one other beautiful woman who sought my company…but I know you have already deduced that my heart belongs to another." He held her hand in his as he saw the tears begin to form in her sad eyes, "I wish I could free myself of her smile, her scent, her laugh…but I can't."

Erik cringed at the pain he saw on her face, "I've tried…for eight years, to leave her behind…and even though she will never love me the way that I love her..." he smiled through his own tears, "I… cannot, in all fairness, court you."

Tempest was shaking her head, letting him know that she respected his decision, especially for his consideration of her feelings.

"You flatter me by even wanting to spend time with me." He smiled, breaking her heart even more with his beauty.

She held her hand to his cheek and caressed its perfection, "If she doesn't love you…she's a fool."

He laid a kiss upon her hand and walked back to the carriage. He had managed to break a woman's heart tonight; and although he was honored that she cared enough to be hurt, he wished he could give her what she wanted

She was lovely, and she had a sweet disposition…but Erik felt no spark in her presence. When he was around Christine, he spent all day trying to catch the breath she took away.

He couldn't think straight, or function correctly…and it mattered not whether she was near him or not…she completely possessed him.

He would simply find a way to be content with having her work for him and be in his home; he would simply find a way.

**_French to English translation:_**

(1) Mademoiselle Le Roseau, you look stunning.

(2) Thank you Erik…so do you

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Erik returned home at around 9:55 pm. The house was quiet and peaceful, so unlike the hours when Jean Luc and Grace filled its halls with laughter and sport. Quiet was rare commodity these days.

He mounted the staircase and silently ascended toward Grace's room. She was sound asleep as he entered, and he sat down on the edge of her bed and just stared at her sleeping beauty.

She stirred awake, knowing his protective presence was watching over her. "Hello Cherub (little angel), did you have fun tonight?" He asked while playing with the hair on her forehead.

She shook her head yes while yawning and smiling at the same time. "Did you?" she whispered.

"It was…interesting." He admitted.

He was unaware of the woman who stood on the other side of the door, hanging on every word he said; her ear poised for every syllable.

"Madam Nancy said you were out with a woman." Grace stated with questions in her eyes.

Erik had failed to inform Nancy of the need for discretion; a mistake he would not make again.

"I was." He admitted.

Grace frowned and pursed her lips, "Why can't you go out with Mlle. Christine?"

Christine's ears perked up at the mention of her name; she may not have to do much with Grace on her side.

Erik chuckled, "Grace, Ms. Daae and I…she's not…" Erik dropped his eyes, trying to find the easiest way to say what needed to be said. "She doesn't look at me that way…"

Grace looked confused, "What way?"

Erik rubbed her cheek with the back of his hand, cherishing its softness, "I'm not a man in her eyes."

Christine could not believe what she was hearing. Why would he say that?

"How does she see you?" The little voice asked.

Erik hesitated, but knew he had to be honest with her, "She sees me as a monster." He saw a shadow cross her eyes and he smiled, "Now, go to sleep, my pet." He bent and kissed her forehead.

Christine knew he was headed for the door and ran back to the entrance of her room before he emerged through Grace's door.

She was headed out of her room when he was closing Grace's door, "Erik, you are home."

His head raised as her voice touched his ears, "So I am." He said with a sad smile.

Christine prayed that the image of him with another woman did not show on her face. She had no right to be possessive of him, he was not hers; yet, she wanted him to know that she, indeed, did think of him as a man.

He prepared to turn and disappear into his room, but her voice stopped him.

"Could we talk for a little while?" She asked, timidly; her smile inviting him to accept.

Erik turned toward to her and cocked his head sideways. A slant of his lips on one side, indicated his consideration of her suggestion; however, his question was not what she was expecting.

"Do you play chess, Christine?" He inquired, hoping she did.

She returned his askance look with one of her own, "I do."

An impish grin indicated his pleasure at finding her familiar with the game. He began walking back down the stairs.

"Follow me." He turned and instructed, motioning to her with his beckoning index finger.

She did as he told her, and followed him into the library. There was an ornately carved mahogany table in the corner, which Erik pulled out and moved to set in front of the fireplace. On its polished surface was carved a chess playing board.

He then went to a hidden closet in the wall and removed the most exquisite set of chess pieces she had ever seen; each piece uniquely, beautifully carved from the finest porcelain. The attention to detail was extraordinary.

"Erik, these pieces are stunning…where did you get them?" Christine asked as she examined the black queen.

Erik chuckled at her enthusiasm and began setting up the board.

"I made them…years ago." He stated, serenely. He seemed completely oblivious to the rare gifts that he possessed.

Christine admired each piece, as a skilled artisan would examine a piece of art. She looked at him and shook her head, "Is there no limit to what you can do?"

They sat down at the table and began the game. After the first few moves, Christine could see that she was up against a master. She decided to distract him.

"How was your evening?" Christine asked, innocently.

He regarded her speculatively and then shrugged, "Stimulating." He replied.

Not the answer she had been hoping for; that one word produced images in her mind, with which she was not pleased.

Christine raised her brows, "Really…in what way?" She pressed.

A stray smile played about his lips, "It's not important…it won't happen again." He pondered.

Swallowing the knot in her throat, she asked, "What won't happen again?"

Erik discordantly answered her, knowing she would find out about his failures as man eventually, "Courting…you know…a woman being interested in my attributes as a man."

There…he had said it. Hearing it from his mouth had certainly not made it any easier for her to accept. This was intolerable…had she been horrible to him…mocked him, possibly? Why was he not going to see her again?

She tried to keep the tone light, but she wanted him to open up to her.

"Your attributes as a man?" Christine repeated, phrasing it as a question.

He visibly relaxed, having accepted the fact that he was, and always would be, alone.

Erik smirked, flippantly, "Yes…attributes; namely, that I am one…" he decided to let his sense of humor take over, something he rarely did, "…a man, that is." He chuckled, with a tilt of his head.

Christine rolled her eyes, pushing the jealous bile back down her throat, "Sure, Erik…like any woman could ignore your "attributes as a man". She stated with a blush.

Erik wasn't sure what she meant by that, "What does that mean?" He asked, curiously.

Christine could do nothing but shake her head at him, "I'm not going to tell you, Erik…this is something that I will have to show you…when the time is right." She assessed the playing board and smug smile graced her features, "CHECK."

Erik chuckled at her pitiful attempt at defeating him; he moved his knight two spaces up and one space to the left, not only blocking her "check", but…

"CHECK MATE." Erik stated, no smugness, no conceit…just an acceptance of the obvious…he was still an excellent chess player.

Christine sat in complete silence, stunned at having lost. Her father had been a top chess champion in his time, and had taught her well…but not well enough to beat Erik.

He stood up and moved toward the door, "I daresay, most women wish to believe I don't and never did, exist."

He dropped his eyes and walked out as she picked up stride behind him. They walked silently toward her room, where he bid her good night, once more.

"Good night, Christine, and thank you for the game."

She watched his retreating back, "Good night, Erik, and next time will be my victory."

His soft, masculine laughter was heard as his door shut.

TBC


	18. Chapter 18

Well, we've reached the point in the story where Erik has admitted, to himself at least, that he loves Christine and will never love another. He is a typical male, he will not easily divulge this information to her (although, we females already know these things, so Christine is aware of his feelings). But, she is also aware of the fear he has in loving; the fear of losing or hurting the object of his love.

Christine, for her part, is not going to tell Erik of her love for him because he is not ready to accept it. He needs to get over his personal hurdles before he hears her say it, and knows that she means it with all her heart; however, she will take advantage of every opportunity she has to show him how she feels.

So, sit back and enjoy the next few chapters – they should prove quite interesting.

THE DAWN THROUGH THE NIGHT

_**Book IV: Let the Games Begin**_

CHAPTER 18

The rest of the week passed uneventfully, but Christine noticed that Grace was unusually distant with her. She knew the young girl resented her for what Erik had told her.

Saturday rolled around and Christine knew she did not have to play governess, but she wanted to spend time with Grace and smooth out the wrinkle that Erik had inadvertently placed in their relationship.

"Nancy, when Erik comes down, will you please tell him that I took Grace to the store; I want to buy her some hair pins and clips. She had beautiful curls that I would enjoy arranging in different styles." Christine stated as she walked past Nancy.

Grace was headed down the stairs and heard her, "I don't want to go anywhere with you." She stressed.

"Grace, you will behave and go with Madam Christine…your father would not want to hear you talking to her this way." Nancy scolded.

Grace furrowed her brow and stared daggers at Christine, "I don't know why he should care; she hates him."

Nancy shot a look at Christine's apologetic eyes, "Go with Christine, Grace."

The child stomped off, showing her temper to be every bit as formidable as her father's is; Christine could not help but smile at the resemblance.

The carriage ride was interesting. Christine felt Grace's eyes boring into her with such force, that it made her uncomfortable.

"Grace, there has been a misunderstanding." Christine finally admitted.

Grace did not acknowledge her voice.

"Grace, look at me."

The girl reluctantly obeyed, bringing her tearing eyes to Christine's. "Why do you hate Papa?" Grace finally asked; her voice so full of pain.

Christine moved from her seat and sat beside Grace. She tried to take the child into her arms, but much like her father, she recoiled from Christine's touch.

Christine dropped her arms and her voice, "Grace, I don't hate your father." Christine assured her, "Quite the contrary actually." She stated in a low voice.

Grace looked hesitant to believe her words, "He said that you think of him as a monster."

Christine smiled and dropped her eyes, "I have thought many things of your father, but I have never thought him a monster."

"Why did he say you did?" She asked with sad eyes.

Christine noticed a visible softening of her features and reached to move a dark curl that hung in her face, "Erik and I have known each other for about nine years…"

Christine went on to tell Grace about Erik had given up the love he had for her so that she could be happy with Raoul. She told her about the crimes at the opera house, and how everyone blamed them on The Phantom.

She told her about Erik dual identity and her betrayal of his trust.

"He thinks that I was repulsed by his deformed features, and that I thought he was a monster…like so many others before me." Christine stated. "I was so very young Grace, only sixteen when he revealed to me that he was a man." Christine smiled down at the beautiful child.

Grace reached her hand over and gently touched Christine's. When Christine looked over at her she said, "Papa told me about the opera house and a about his life as the The Phantom; he told about the gypsies and the way people treated him." She was crying, but she continued to speak, "I wish I could have been there to keep Papa from being so lonely."

Christine pulled the sobbing child into her arms, "Grace, Erik is not lonely anymore; he has you, Nancy and Sam..." She stated.

Grace pulled back from her embrace and looked deep into her eyes, "No Madam Christine, he is very lonely, all I want is for him to be happy and smile more often...his smile is so beautiful and it makes me happy."

Christine marveled at the maturity of this little girl. She somehow understood the loneliness that drove her father and wanted to end it.

"I want to his loneliness also, Grace." Christine caroled, "I know he needs the love that I have for him and I will show him, over the course of the next few weeks and months that I love him more than life itself."

Grace beamed in the knowledge that Christine loved her papa. She wanted him to have a wife like all the other papas she had seen and wanted him to get hugs and kisses like all the others.

"You can't tell him anything that I have said, Grace." Christine stressed, "It is best that I show him and not tell him, at this point in time."

Grace smiled mischievously, smacked her mouth shut and sealed the imaginary button that rested on her lips. Christine chuckled and cupped Grace's small chin in her palm, "Us ladies have to stick together when it comes to our men." Christine said, winking at Grace.

"Are you going to give Papa hugs and kisses like I see the papas get?" Grace innocently asked.

Christine chuckled, "Oh yes, my dear child, I am."

Grace gave Christine a big hug and the rest of the day progressed well. Christine was able to get the items she needed and they returned home by early afternoon.

Plans were forming in Christine's mind and she was formulating ways of making them happen.

**_Two months have passed…_**

Christine settled in and learned the normal flow of the household. Erik worked many hours, but his involvement in the work was reaching its conclusion.

Christine took every opportunity she could, to ruffle Erik's feathers, with Grace's help, of course. He began to realize that she would touch him at every opportunity, and went out of her way to talk with him.

The whole process was driving Erik insane. He new she wanted to be his friend, but the touching was almost more than he could bear. He tried to hide his wretched reaction from her, but he wasn't sure if he was successful on all occasions.

Christine was very much aware of his reactions and beefed up her efforts even more. She was not going to give him any slack when it came to making him realize she loved touching him, being around him, talking to him…everything; she wanted him to realize that she loved HIM!

She showed up at his worksite on several occasions, with Grace and Jean Luc in tow. She had a packed picnic lunch, a smile, and intelligent conversation; this made him irate. He couldn't show his irritation because the children were there, but Christine could feel it and it brought a smile to her face.

One of those days, they sat in the park enjoying the afternoon sun. Grace was skipping in the grass chasing a butterfly and Erik was lying back in the grass watching his surroundings from under half-closed eyes.

Jean Luc ambled over to Erik's reclining figure and proceeded to plop himself onto Erik's stomach, jolting the resting man to an alert state. Jean Luc straddled Erik's chest, bounced up and down, and giggled.

Erik responded by lightly tickling the giggling boy, and Jean Luc giggled even louder. Erik lifted the boy in the air, while still lying on the ground, and twirled him around with his long arms. Jean Luc felt like he was flying and his animated face lit up with joy.

Christine watched the whole display through happy tears. Jean Luc was interacting with Erik as a son would a father, and he even sought Erik's company on many occasions. Erik did not know this; Christine would simply lead the boy to where Erik was and Jean Luc would take over.

She wished Erik's blood flowed through Jean Luc's veins; as far as she was concerned, Jean Luc would grow up thinking that.

On other occasions, she disrupted his home with loud games and laughter, making Erik sigh and hold his head. His frustration made him vulnerable and Christine pressed him at every chance she had.

She refused to tell Madeline and Brigitte to stay away from him; she made him deal with his animosity toward both of them, and he was beginning to warm up to his mother; something she had thought she would never see.

Brigitte found the opportunity to speak to him one afternoon, when Erik came home early.

He was walking down the hallway, toward the dining room, when Brigitte approached him wearily.

"Erik, may I speak with you?" She asked.

Erik did not speak, but ushered her into the library and shut the door.

His eyes focused on hers, letting her know to begin the conversation.

"There are so many unspoken words between us…" She began. She raised her eyes to his and bit her bottom lip, "…please forgive me for not believing in you." She begged, her voice faltering.

Erik wrinkled his brow; he could se the weight of her guilt bearing down on her frail shoulders.

"I'm so sorry…" She was wracked with sobs.

Erik could do nothing but watch the formidable woman, he had come to consider as a rock, crumble before him.

He walked up to her and wrapped her in his arms; a rare display of affection which she relished. "We have all made mistakes in our lives, I know this better than anyone else…all was forgiven years ago, Brigitte." He lifted her chin to look in to her eyes, "Let bygones be bygones."

He pulled back from the hug and looked deep into her eyes, "Why did you never marry Brigitte, you're an attractive woman…" her eyes shot up to his with a questioning glint, "I have always thought so." He said softly.

Brigitte was taken aback by his compliment; he had never said anything about the way she looked. "Thank you Erik, that means a great deal coming from you." She smiled at him, "There has been only one man I loved…" She admitted, "…but I never felt myself worthy of him."

Erik shook his head and asked, "Worthy of him?" Erik exclaimed, "What was he, a nobleman?"

Brigitte shook her head, "I don't believe he was, but he sure carried himself like one."

"Brigitte, you are beneath no one." Erik stressed, "You have beauty and class well beyond many women in the upper-class, don't be silly in thinking you are not worthy of someone." He dropped his eyes, wondering who this man was. "Did he even know of your love for him?"

She smiled up at him and quietly answered, "No, I suppose he never knew." She hoped her eyes did not give the truth away; that he was the object of her love.

"What a loss." Erik murmured. He looked back at her earnest eyes, "Could he have made you happy?" He asked.

Brigitte smiled at him; a beautiful, embracing smile, "Yes, he could have made me very happy."

Erik considered that for a moment, she had never taken the chance on love; and yet, she expected him to abandon all the reservations he had and surrender to its sweet poison again.

He changed the subject, "What happened to the Opera Populaire?" He inquired, "Paris is without a noteworthy opera now."

A sad, forlorn look rested in her features, "It was never the same after you left." She admitted to him, "It became known to us that many people frequented the opera house because of the legendary Phantom and his roguish deeds."

Erik scoffingly laughed, but there was no humor in his actions, "These are the same people who called for my torture and subsequent demise after the fiasco at the opera house."

"Erik, once it was known that you were not guilty and all the horrible things that had happened to you became public knowledge…you were suddenly the most powerful and sought after man in Paris." She stated, "But no one could find you."

"I didn't wish to be found." He stated, dryly. "My plan was to die and never have to contend with the human race again."

Brigitte bowed her head at his admission, "I never knew how much I cared about you, until you were gone…and I felt that I had run you off."

Erik walked over to her and lifted her chin to his eyes, "Nonsense Brigitte, what happened, happened for a reason." His words eased her mind, "If it hadn't happened, I wouldn't have Grace."

They headed out the door together and Erik turned to her and said, "Maybe there is something I can do about that opera house…sometime in the future."

His words caused her face to light up and hope to fill her eyes. "I knew that if anyone could, it would be you."

OOOOOOOOOO

They never spoke of the past again. They continued to develop a very strong bond of friendship.

A few days later, it was Madeline's turn. She had not pressured him; she waited for him to see that she was genuine in her love for him and that she wanted to be a mother to him if he would let her.

"Say something Erik…anything." Madeline pleaded.

His back was to her and he was unrelentingly rigid. She had just told him about his father's abuse and the drug addiction that had caused his deformity. She spoke of the cloud she had lived in through most of his childhood, and the seething hatred she felt for his father.

She had told him of Étienne, and his unsavory ways and the second round of addictions she had endured; the last one nearly taking her life.

"I'm sorry mother…I didn't know." Erik finally choked out. "I should have known something was wrong...I should have protected you."

Madeline heard the regret in his voice and slowly approached him. She reached out and silently took his hand, startling him from his stupor. She led him over to the couch and sat him down, much as she would have had he been ten-years-old.

"How could you have known, my son?" She cooed. "You were just a child…" she reached up and finally caressed his cheek, "…we were both victims, but I am so terribly sorry for what my intolerable behavior toward you caused."

She sat at the opposite end of the couch, but reached over and pulled his hand, causing him to cast weary eyes toward her. She patted her lap, and insistently indicated for him to rest his head there.

"Forgive me." She cried as her tears cleansed her soul.

Erik gave into the call of his heart and pulled her into his embrace. Holding her with all the pent up love he had felt for her over the years.

"I love you Erik…more than you will ever be able to understand."

Erik felt tears sting his eyes as he heard her speak words he had longed to hear years ago. He rested his head in her lap and closed his eyes at her touch. Years of anger and remorse drifted away on the wings of unseen angels. Erik knew that the bitterness and pain he had been through because of this woman would remain a part of him; she had suffered too; and somehow, that made the brutal memories easier to bear.

She ran her fingers through his dark hair, humming lightly as she did so. Both shed silent, cleansing tears for the lost years and their minds were filled with hope for the future. No words were spoken, as mother and son finally created a bond.

After these nights, they all carried on a friendship that grew with each game of chess, each shared music lesson with Grace and Jean Luc, and every smile and laugh. Grace had started calling Madeline, grandmamma; after Erik told Grace about her being his mother.

They ate meals together, went to church together, played games together, talked and laughed together, played chess together; but Erik never crossed any boundaries with Christine; he maintained an employee/employer relationship and never treated her like anything other than the friend she had asked to be.

Christine found in him a man she could respect and whose company she enjoyed immensely. She also found that her pulse picked up when he was in the room or even when she thought about him. She found that he occupied her thoughts day and night.

Then came a crucial night about three months after Christine moved in…

Erik had come home about six o'clock, played with Grace and Jean Luc and given them each a music lesson, and then immediately went to his study. Christine did not wish to debate or argue with him tonight…tonight, she just wanted to talk.

She followed him into the study, without him knowing it, and watched as he languidly reclined in his desk chair. His eyes were closed and he seemed oblivious to the world around him.

Christine knew that over the past few months she had fallen hopelessly in love with him. She had seen the man that hid behind the mask of indifference he wore every day. Even with improved relations with his mother, he still lacked self-confidence.

She felt it was time to have a discussion about the events that culminated eight years ago and why he acted as he did. She wanted to understand him.

He began massaging his head again, and Christine became concerned; his headaches were coming more often and she did not know what was causing them. He had become silent and foreboding a great deal of the time, and she feared that it was because of her.

"Your headaches are becoming a regular occurrence." She said, as his head whipped up to look into her eyes.

He looked at the woman who haunted his every thought with her smile and natural beauty. He had memorized every aspect of her; the way she moved, the light that rested in her eyes every time he was blessed to be able to look into them, the lilt in her voice that sang to his heart…everything.

She mocked him with her presence every day, and she was wondering about his headaches… 'She better be thankful she has no idea about the other parts of my body that ache.' He thought.

"You'd ache to if you looked like this." He smirked, cynically, dropping his eyes from her steady gaze.

Christine came forward and moved to stand behind him. She took his head between his hands and began massaging his temples and soft spot behind his head and above his neck.

Erik moved to escape her skilled hands, "Sit still, I won't hurt you." She stated with a calm voice. She firmly, but gently held him down. "Why do you say such things?" she asked, her heart wrenching in her chest.

Erik sat silently, enjoying the feel of her hands on his head…no woman had ever touched him…he wondered if she knew that.

"Don't play coy with me, Christine…" He retorted back. "…I know what I look like."

His voice faded off as her hands worked magic; it was ironic really, the one who was the very source of his headaches was the same one who had the ability to remove them.

"Do you Erik, or is all you see, when you look in the mirror, a mask?" Christine asked.

"What else is there to see?" Erik asked, disgustedly.

Christine came around and stood in front of Erik's chair. He had no choice but to look up at her.

She crossed her arms in front of her and stared boldly at him, "I know that you cannot be that imperceptive or blind, Erik." She scolded, "If you had not been so cantankerous and obsessive; and courted me like a man is supposed to do, things would have been drastically different eight years ago."

Erik scoffed at her, "That's ludicrous!"

He ripped away from her hands and stood with his back to her. His height was still intimidating, but she found that it added to his charisma.

"The night of the Don Juan performance, you completely enthralled me…I would have done anything you asked." She watched him hang his head and wondered what he was thinking, "I had thought you could not be any more compelling than you were when you took me to your lair and sang 'Music of the Night' to me…but 'Point of No Return'…"

"Christine, stop!" Erik injected, loudly. "You know you were under the spell of my voice…" he reminded her, "…you would have never reacted to me otherwise."

Christine walked over and stood in front of him once more, "How do you know?" She dropped her chin and looked at him over the top of her eyes.

Erik lifted his visible brow at that, "Because, I just know…You can't stand there and tell me that you would have chosen me over _him_."

Christine heard the disbelief in his voice, "If you hadn't petrified me with your explosive temper and had shown me the side of you that I have seen over the past few weeks…" She reached her hand up and caressed his cheek, "…yes, I would have chosen you…even with the idea in my head that you were a murderer."

Erik did not move at her confession, he stood quiet and motionless. Finally, his voice was heard, "Alright, I'm willing to admit that my left side may be somewhat…acceptable…" he conceded, "…but there has only been one woman who saw what's under this mask and was able to say she loved me."

Christine knew this to be true. She foolishly had avoided him after she unmasked him. It hadn't been because of that, but Raoul had demanded so much of her time and he forbade her to wander very far out of his sight.

Erik was in a quandary, he had debated over telling Christine about Grace's parentage for weeks. He did not know how to bring it up; now seemed as good a time as any.

"I did love Desiree…but it was more of a calm, serene love…rather than a passionate, all-consuming love." He missed the surprised look on Christine's face. "I didn't really know that I loved her until she was gone." He was not looking at Christine; but instead, focused on the floor.

"When I fled Paris all those years ago, I was hell bent on ending my life." He stated, not aware of the sharp intake of breath coming from Christine. "I ended up in a small community outside of Toulouse…after days of riding, I finally happened upon a house and barn that looked to be deserted. I had been whipped in the prison cell, and my wounds were infected and festering…" His eyes were lost in memories, "…I injected a complete vile of Morphine and went into a deep coma, hoping to never wake up…"

Christine wiped the tears from her cheeks as they mournfully reacted to his pain. She put her arms across her abdomen to quiet the gnawing ache that had developed there.

Erik lifted somber eyes to her and smiled regretfully, "My last chance at love was gone…and I had no desire to fight the hatred I feel for myself…it seemed like the best course of action at the time." He spoke of his own demise as one would speak of the weather…and that terrified Christine.

He had stopped speaking for a moment, and then he jarred himself back into his story, "Anyway, the house was not abandoned as I had thought. A young widow lived there, in complete destitution. She apparently came into the barn for her water pale and found me, in a drug induced coma." Erik stated, still appalled at the fact that he had not had the correct amount of morphine to kill him.

"After three days of absolute agony, I awakened to her perkiness and over the next two months, she broke through my defenses. She refused to allow me to wear the mask in her presence." Erik smiled, remembering Desiree's eager eyes and sweet smile, "I stayed around to help her get back on her feet. I cut wood for her to cook with and bought oil for her lamps. She was six-and-a-half to seven-months pregnant when she found me. Her husband had died before finding out about the baby."

Erik smiled an iridescent smile, "She held me in her arms and danced with me; pressing her sweet, female curves into my untouched carcass, it felt wonderful…but I did not ever act on the feelings she evoked in me."

Christine released the breath she had not known she was holding. He had not fathered Grace; why did that knowledge calm her heart? The idea of him being with any woman other than her…left a strange, gnawing feeling deep within her.

"She went into labor and the baby was breech," Erik choked out, "and the doctor couldn't hear the heartbeat…Desiree insisted that he cut the baby out of her." Erik shed his own tears at that moment, "She died in my arms, after making me promise to take the infant and raise her as my own." Erik looked up at Christine, "She told me she loved me and had wanted to marry me…right before she died." He smiled slightly at that memory, "I so wanted to believe her…"

Erik walked past Christine, not wanting to see the look on her face, "Grace is Desiree's daughter and the child of her late husband…and before you ask," he held up his hand as she indicted a question, "Grace knows…" his hand dropped as well as his voice, "…I could never reproduce something of such beauty…"

Christine stood, and walked over to him, his back was straight and rigid. She put her hand on his shoulder and gently prodded him to look at her. He slowly turned to face her.

"She's your daughter Erik, in all the ways that count." She said, smiling tenderly at him. "Would you have married her?" Christine wondered how she could feel jealous of a dead woman.

"I think I could have found happiness with her…if she truly wanted to commit to me in that way…" Erik felt the ache in his heart at the chance that was lost to him, "…yes, I would have married her."

"You said your love for her was calm and gentle." Christine voiced, trying not to sound envious.

Erik shrugged his broad shoulders, "It was; I'm surprised I felt it at all…I had closed my heart to everyone." He spoke with conviction as he stubbornly dared her to respond.

"I'm sorry Erik…I'm sorry that she left you." Christine stated, "And you know your deformity is not hereditary…any children you sire will be beautiful."

Erik furrowed his brow and shook his head, "Yes, well we'll never know…will we." He wasn't indicating anything with his words, just stating the cold facts as he saw them.

She moved closer to him, and Erik stood his ground. His heart was slamming against the wall of his chest, and he could feel his pulse beating rapidly in his neck. Why did he allow her to do this to him?

Christine leaned into him, reveling in the intoxicating scent of his cologne and the power that naturally emanated from him; she caressed his perfect features with her palm. If only he could understand the irresistible, sensual intensity, he possessed that made her unable to deny her love for him.

Erik was unaware of the closeness of Christine; he was lost in the warmth of her touch. The only time he became aware of it was when he felt her warm lips touch his. His eyes shot open and he gripped her shoulders with his hands, firmly but gently holding her away from him.

What game was she playing? She infuriated him in one moment and intoxicated him the next. Having her under the same roof was pinning him on the brink of insanity. Seeing her act as a mother with Grace just as she did with Jean Luc…he realized what a wonderful mother she really was.

It hurt him deeply to accept the fact that he would never have children with her, or anyone for that matter; he had found, over the years that he enjoyed them very much and wanted to be surrounded by them.

"Don't play with fire Christine," his voice was low and menacing, "you will get burned." There was a look of agony in his eyes, "Why do you torment me with the taboo?" He spat.

He pushed her away from him, disgusted at the reaction she was forcing from his body. He had always been in such control of his sex drive. He had pushed those desires deep down into the dark crevices of his mind, and ignored them when they threatened; but Christine robbed him of all his good sense and control.

He tried to put as much distance between her and him as was possible at that moment…and he thought he had succeeded, until Christine roared up from behind him and planted herself in his path.

"What is that supposed to mean?" She demanded; fire burning in her brown eyes.

Erik gave a cruel laugh, knowing he was asking for it, but unable to stop the words before they flowed from his mouth.

"Come on Christine, why would you even want to put her lips to mine…no woman ever has…" His words were biting and Christine felt the pain of each one. Hadn't she just told him how handsome she found him?

"…I'm only flesh and blood…I have never touched or been touched." Erik saw her eyes widen and felt the shiver go through her, "Surely you knew this…my repulsive flesh drove you away, why would anyone else feel any differently?"

He was breathing heavily from the exertion of his anger, she managed somehow, to bring out the worst in him lately, "I know it must come as a shock to you, but I have desires and needs like any other man."

He looked deep into her eyes, "I have spent the greater part of the 34 years I have been alive, burying my desire for companionship and fulfillment deep within my body…" He raised his chin in defiance, "…rest assured, I will not touch you…but don't play with my control."

He was looming over her, his gorgeous eyes livid and burning. He started to leave, but viciously turned on her and grabbed her arm in a firm grip; "If physical pleasure is what you seek…" his eyes raked her body, and he couldn't hide the desire in his eyes; and he couldn't seem to stop the words that were spilling forth.

"…there are many men, far more adept than I." His meaning was quite clear. "Take a lover if you must…but don't bring him here." He warned, released her arm as if stung, and turned to leave.

It was Christine's turn to be livid. Her words stopped him in his tracks, "How dare you!" she spat, fury flinging from every word. Erik turned slowly to find her not a foot away from him. As he finished his turn, her open palm landed against his exposed cheek in a shrill slap.

"I know you're a man, Erik…I have never had a doubt about that…no woman could ever deny that." She was speaking in a very low scream, "How dare you think I would want some clandestine affair after all that I have been through with Raoul."

His eyes were burning holes through her as he desperately tried to control his rage, he spoke through clenched teeth, "How could it have been that bad?" he started pacing the room like a caged animal, "Tell me Christine." He stopped with his back to her and his back ramrod straight, "He has everything you could possibly want; handsome of face and body; a title to offer prestige and status; money to grant your every wish…" he turned his head only enough to allow her a glimpse of his white mask, "…he gave you a beautiful child…"

Erik had calmed enough to turn toward her, "I know what you think of me…I heard how you spoke of me when you thought I wasn't listening." There was still anger in his voice as he stroked his lips where hers had touched his, "How could you even stand to touch me after having him?"

Christine balked slightly from the knowledge that he had heard her insulting words about him on the occasions when she and Raoul had discussed him. She had been cruel and harsh, only wanting to make Raoul feel better…she had been an ignorant fool.

"Yes, Erik. I said some things that I should have never said…I did not mean them." His head rose slowly to meet her eyes, he clearly did not believe her. "I wanted to please Raoul and make him feel better about himself…he was very intimidated by you."

Erik grimaced at that and shook his head, "Intimidated…by me?" His eyes narrowed and he laughed without humor, "I find that hard to believe."

She spoke to him with determined strength, "That doesn't change the truth of it." She watched as a shadow crossed over his eyes, "Did you not see the stricken look in my eyes that night?" she questioned him. "You awakened feelings in me that I had never experienced before…yes, I said some things…things that I did not mean." She pleaded with her eyes, "You were…an enigma to me…you frightened me."

She sauntered up to him and stood a mere inch from him, she was not touching him, but Erik could feel the warmth of her body mocking him with its closeness. She reached her palm up to caress his perfect cheek, noticing how he moved slightly to avoid her touch.

"You pull away from me with her body, but your eyes tell me a different story." Christine purred.

Before she could continue her thought, he shoved her against the wall, pinning her between his hard, hot body and the cold, unyielding wall. She lifted sultry eyes to him, daring him to act upon the desire she knew he felt. He pushed against her, breathing hard and fighting the longing rushing through him.

"What do you want Christine?" He hissed, "Do you want me to admit that you stimulate me beyond reason…that I spend the entire day in a state of arousal just from the thought of seeing you when I come home?"

He roughly pulled her to him. His eyes were centimeters from hers and his breathing was erratic. Neither said a word as they tested each other.

Erik finally spoke through clenched teeth, "So be it."

He claimed her mouth in a cruel, bruising kiss. He wanted to hurt her, just as she hurt him everyday that she teased him with her dancing eyes and pouting lips; he wanted to hurt her for causing a reaction in his long-dormant body that could only result in further agony for him.

He had never kissed nor been kissed, but he knew how it was done. He kept his mind on what he was doing and ignored the fire that ignited in his body when his mouth claimed hers. He wanted to punish her for making him love her.

He violently thrust his tongue between her soft, yielding lips. He was too intent on proving his point that it did not register in his brain that she was returning his kiss with fervor.

Christine's body reacted to his onslaught with eagerness and passion. She had never been kissed like this…with passion and fire. Even in anger, Erik elicited a need in her that she never even knew existed. He may have meant it to be a punishing, painful kiss…but Christine wanted more.

She fenced with his tongue, wanting him to feel the desire she had for him. He kissed as though he had been doing it for years; he felt and tasted so good.

His erection pressed against her abdomen, making his desire quite evident. She instinctively wanted to press against it and yield to its ageless promise. She felt a strange desire in her womanly core to have Erik buried deep in her body; something she never felt nor desired with Raoul.

Erik ended the kiss, breathing heavily from a mix of fury and desire. His voice was low and controlled when he finally spoke, "That is what I want to do to you every time I look into your eyes or catch a whiff of your scent on the air." He was speaking through clenched teeth, "But I can't," he spat, "you're not mine…and you made it quite clear that you never will be."

He pushed away from her, thinking what a fool he was. He knew she despised him and yet he had opened himself up again, laying his vulnerability in front of her like a rug. He ran a frustrated hand through his thick hair, turned, and walked out.

TBC


	19. Chapter 19

Well, isn't this fun. If you thought everything was coming to a boiling point, wait 'til ya read this one!

Welcome aboard, Taste's Like Home, I'm pleased to hear from you and that you are enjoying my writings. Thanks for reviewing, stay tuned for more!

Enjoy

THE DAWN THROUGH THE NIGHT

_**Book IV: Let the Games Begin**_

CHAPTER 19

Three weeks had past since that night. Erik had grown even more cold and aloof, making for a very long three weeks. He had not spoken to Christine at any point, but remained remote and detached; probably thinking that was what she wanted.

She would feel his eyes on her as she passed by him or when he thought she wasn't looking, and she longed to run into his arms and pick up where they had left off. She knew that an opportunity would present itself, and when it did, she would be waiting.

One morning in early July, Christine had volunteered to go to the shops and get the needed items for the pantry, she had not had much of a chance to get out lately, and thought this might be a good time.

She stood in the market place, buying produce and meat. Nancy had come with her, thinking they might need four hands instead of two.

"It is her, Mabel, I told you so." Christine heard the whispers coming from behind her.

"She is Mr. Destler's governess. But look at her...I guarantee she's more to him than that…" a whiney, high-pitched voice stated.

Christine heard another voice, this one younger, "How could she _not_ be with a man like that…" She commented, "I practically swoon in church whenever he speaks to me or looks at me…he is so handsome…how tragic about his face."

"Well, if you ask me, she must be his mistress…I hear she has a child…"

Christine willed herself to shrink into the woodwork, until she heard all three voices in unison whisper, just loud enough for her to hear,

"Tramp."

She whirled around and took the women off guard, stopping their wagging tongues with her words, "I'll have you know, Erik Destler and I were married in a quiet ceremony over a month ago…so you see, I AM more than just his governess."

She stormed off, leaving gaping mouths and shocked eyes. As she stalked away from them, the couldn't believe the audacity they had to begin with, but she also couldn't believe she had said what she said.

Nancy stood in stunned shock as she watched the whole exchange, wondering what had caused such an outburst from Christine.

Christine grabbed her purchases, placed them in boxes, grabbed Nancy's arm, and they waltzed out the door; not giving the busy bodies another thought.

It was a week later before she heard anything more about it. Erik slammed the door shut and unceremoniously stomped up the stairs and knocked on Christine's door. He was breathing heavily from the fury that was racing through him.

Christine opened the door and immediately knew something was wrong. His eyes were the color of burgeoning seas whipped by the storms; she wasn't sure why he was angry with her. Even though he was angry, at least he was going to talk to her.

She drank in the sight of him as though she had not seen him for days. He had become tanned from working with the men outside and overseeing his building project. His hair was a bit tousled tonight, with a strand hanging down in his eyes.

Brigitte and Madeline were in the room also having come over to see Grace and Jean Luc. Erik greeted his mother with a kiss on the cheek and nodded to Brigitte.

Nancy had followed him up the stairs to see what the door slamming had been about, Erik turned toward her and with quiet control asked, "Nancy, would you please take Grace and Jean Luc to the park across the street; I need some time to discuss some personal matters with Ms. Daae."

Nancy did as he asked, while Erik stood with erect shoulders and a perturbed stance, waiting for her to leave the room.

Nancy cast Christine a "hope-you-can-stand-the-heat" look, waited for Brigitte and Madeline to move past her, and shut the door. Erik stood deathly still for a few minutes before turning to Christine; she could see something in his features that she had not seen for some time…distrust towards her.

"You come into my home…follow your own agenda," he was working hard at controlling his annoyance, "…deliberately disobey me at every possible turn and on every possible subject, and now…" he turned from her and walked out onto the balcony.

Christine had dutifully followed him onto the balcony, not knowing what was troubling him. She saw the rigidness of his shoulders and the stern stance of his legs, 'This can't be good.' She thought to herself.

He turned back around and handed the paper to Christine, "…and now, you mock me."

Christine took the paper as he swept past her and back into the room. He took a seat by the fireplace, closed his eyes, held his forehead in this hand, and massaged the throbbing pain that persisted

"_**It has come to this reporter's attention, through a reliable source, that our own famous architect, Erik Destler (a.k.a. The Phantom of the Opera), has recently undergone nuptials that we were unaware of. He has entered into wedded bliss with none other than, Christine Daae, his former pupil and current governess. Congratulations to the happy couple."**_

Christine put a hand to her mouth as she read. They had taken what she had meant as a means to an end and turned it against Erik. She had not meant for that incident to go any further than the market, but she had not even thought about the repercussions of her lie.

"I don't know what to say Erik…I'm sorry…" Christine said, in a small voice.

Erik continued to rub his aching head, "What were you thinking? Aligning yourself with one such as I?"

Christine furrowed her brow, not sure what he meant by that. She went to him and knelt beside the chair he sat in.

"You deliberately made those women think you were married to **me**…" His voice emphasized "me" as if it were a bad thing, "**me**…of all people." He still thought she despised him, "What if your ex-husband decides to pay us a visit?" Erik mused, "He knows my name and the paper is distributed all over France."

Christine had thought of that, but she knew Raoul and his family. "He won't." She stated.

"How do you know?" Erik asked, not fully convinced.

Christine smiled, "Believe me…Raoul has long since married Lady Victoria Raetheford; his family wont risk the scandal that would arise from drudging up his past."

His hung his head, "I pray that you are correct."

"I am." She replied. Christine placed her hand on his, and was happy to see that he did not recoil from her touch; instead, he did not react at all, as if she had never touched him. "Erik, I really am sorry…they made me angry with their words and accusations…I acted on impulse."

Erik lifted his eyes to her and was surprised to see genuine concern on her face. He had thought this was just another way she was using to get his ire up.

"I'm sorry if I hurt your reputation or made things hard at the workplace." Christine continued.

Erik chuckled; a low, beautiful sound that came from deep inside his chest, but there was weariness in its tone, "I can manage all of that." The smile left his face and it was replaced with sadness, "The only way for me to make this right, is to marry you." He said, not averting his eyes.

Erik was relieved that she hadn't bolted from the room; he had given this a great deal of thought, and knew this was the best solution. He stood up from the chair and helped her to a standing position.

"I'm sorry Christine…I know this isn't what you want." Erik stated, looking down at her. "It will only be for a few months – long enough for me to include you and Jean Luc in my estate – then we can quietly divorce." His words were so full of pain that it hurt for Christine to hear them. "You'll have everything you wanted – money, freedom…" he looked down at his hands as they held hers, pain constricting his chest.

'…My heart.' He thought.

Christine jerked her head up to look at him, but he was already removing himself from her presence. She ran up behind him and placed her hand on his arm, feeling him tremble beneath her touch.

"Erik…" She stated, capturing his attention.

"We will wed tomorrow in a private ceremony at the church – everything has been arranged." He turned distressing eyes to her, but tried to smile, "I promise you, my dear…it won't be for long and it will be in name only."

Christine could not even find her voice as he walked away from her. This was not how she had planned to get back into his life, but it would work. His words indicated that he did not intend to test the boundaries of their mutual attraction; so Christine determined that she, alone, would have to do the testing.

She sought him out, assuming he had gone to his study. She quietly approached the slightly open door. She heard Erik's voice coming from inside and his words were aggrieved and choked.

"She did it Nancy…she found a way…" he stated, "…she found a way to take Grace away from me and destroy my life, once and for all."

Christine startled at his words. Is that what he thought? Why would he think she meant to take Grace away from him? Why would anyone want to do that; it was obvious that she adored him and he was an excellent father?

"Master?" Christine heard Nancy ask.

Erik groaned; a mournful, low sound that made Christine wince, "How am I going to endure having her as my wife and not yield my heart and..." he didn't complete that sentence, but Christine could only guess what he referred to.

She heard him moving about in the room, "I'll have to watch as she takes Grace away from me, one word or deed at a time; and then finally, when everyone has left me again…maybe I'll be allowed to die."

He feared losing his heart, did he? 'Too late, my love.' Christine thought. She could see it in his eyes and feel it in his kiss…he had already yielded his heart to her; and she treasured it like the gift it was.

The fact that he feared she would take Grace away from him was so laughable that she didn't even warrant it worthy of thought. She would have to come up with ways to make sure he acted upon his desire to touch her…and, as his wife; those opportunities were going to be endless. Christine was determined to give him a marriage he would not so easily put aside.

TBC


	20. Chapter 20

Wow! Lots of new readers, thank you for tuning in!

Thanks for all the reviews and keep 'em comin'!

For you, my lovlies!

THE DAWN THROUGH THE NIGHT

_**Book IV: Let the Games Begin**_

CHAPTER 20

The wedding was a quiet affair, with only Madeline, Brigitte, Sam and Nancy, and Grace and Jean Luc in attendance. There was a peck on the cheek to seal the bond, and Christine could hear Erik's heart breaking with every word spoken.

Christine caught her breath as Erik slipped the ring on her finger. It was stunning. A single 3-carat marquis diamond nestled in the middle of a gold band with two, 1-carat diamonds on each side. She had never seen a more beautiful ring.

She had no idea when he had taken the time to purchase the ring, but he certainly had as exquisite a taste in jewelry as he did in everything else.

Christine smile told Erik that she approved of the ring; although he had no idea why there were tears in her eyes. Didn't women normally cry at weddings only if they were happy? Erik shrugged his thoughts away; he would never understand women.

With the last few words, the minister ended the service, and handed Erik the marriage certificate. "You certainly have kept this romance a secret, Mr. Destler…" the minister remarked; a friendly smile on his aging face.

"I am a very private person by nature, Reverend Garnier." Erik admitted.

The minister shook his head, "I understand, and I am aware of your wish to keep this ceremony secret."

"If you are asked, don't give a date, but say that you did unite us in matrimony." Erik stated.

Erik watched the minister walk away, and tucked the paper away inside his suit pocket. He looked at his bride and his breath left him. Even though this marriage meant nothing to her, it was everything to him. He was determined to give her anything she desired for the short time she would belong to him.

He gingerly approached her and was perplexed by the radiant smile she graced him with. He did not respond, except for the slight incline of his head and furrowing of his brow.

"I am sorry that it came to this," he replied, "it was the only way to save your reputation." He smiled sadly, "I don't want that sullied on my account."

He did not even give her time to respond to his words, he squatted down and pulled Grace into his arms, giving her the hugs he always gave her when he pulled her to him. "I love you, ma amour…" he said, stroking her tender cheek with his fingers. "I'll see you tonight." He turned to leave and added, "I think Sam desires to take you ladies out for dinner…"

Christine watched as he strode away from her, he was hurting and did not want her to know it. His exasperating pride was always in the way of his true feelings. He was afraid to show any weakness; as he had done eight years ago.…and he was certain he would get hurt, just as he did back then.

"Let him go, dear…he's not ready to listen to what his heart is telling him." Madeline observed, watching her tenacious son move away from everyone who loved him.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Erik went home and immediately started thinking about what it was he had just gotten himself into. For more years than he cared to count, he had wanted to marry Christine; and regardless of what some might think, it was not only a sexual matter. Oh yes, he desired her on the physical level, but that was not what kept him faithful to her.

Her innate love of music and her understanding of its language enthralled him; she understood its lure and its jealous need for attention.

Her intense, natural intelligence challenged him. Something no other woman, accept his mother, had been able to do. She could carry on a conversation in many different subjects, and if there was something she didn't understand, she grasped it quickly and was proud to learn from him.

Her warm sensitivity and keen sense of humanity allowed her to be empathetic to the needs of others; a trait he had only discovered in the last few months. The way she handled Grace and ran the household business affairs was remarkable. There was no way he could pay her what she was worth as a business woman.

It wasn't that he wouldn't allow himself to love another woman…he couldn't. He had determined years ago, that he would live his life devoid of physical satisfaction and the companionship of another, because he had yet to encounter a woman who stimulated him in all the ways Christine did.

Now, he had gone and married her. His heart yearned to take her in his arms and claim what was legally his. But legally and morally, were two different things. He would never take an unwilling woman…and there would never be a willing one. Christine had reacted to his bruising kiss, something that hadn't occurred to him until several hours after the fact.

However, reacting to a kiss and allowing a man to...Erik balked at the image in his mind. Christine had said, clearly, that Raoul had demanded she surrender to his sexual advances every night, and she had said that it sickened her.

He would not touch her, he had to thicken his resolve and keep his desire at bay or he would hurt her; and he would castrate himself before he would hurt her. Erik's groin ached at the thought of that heinous procedure, but he would do it if she asked him to.

Since consummation was not going to take place, and annulment would be feasible, and less embarrassing to her. She had already suffered one divorce; he did not wish to sully her image any more than Raoul already had.

He knew it would take a couple of months, at least, to get all the paperwork done; but he was certain this was what he wanted to do. He worked diligently on all the details, so he could present it to his attorney for finalization.

He knew that Grace needed a mother and Christine was the one she had chosen. He would relinquish the rest of her upbringing to Christine, but he wanted to be involved in her life…as much as possible.

He wanted to be there to encourage her to pursue her dreams and become anything she wanted to become, there were no boundaries except the ones she gave herself. He wished to be involved in Jean Luc's life, if she would allow it.

He would let Christine know of his desire concerning Grace, praying that she would allow it to become reality. He did not expect her to care about his wishes, but his wishes were what was best for Grace; he hoped she would see that.

He had lost complete track of time and was surprised to see Grace come running into his study and crawl into his lap. She was beaming from ear and to ear and his heart lurched in his chest. He prayed that Christine would allow him to watch her grow up; he wanted that very much.

"Hi Papa…you must have been working hard to not eat with us." Grace stated, rocking in his arms.

Erik smiled sadly, "I had some paperwork I needed to get done, ma joli…did you have fun?"

Grace hugged his neck and kissed his cheek, "Of course Papa, I have a mama now, and I enjoyed myself very much." Her little face took on a concerned look, "Why didn't you and mama kiss at the wedding? I know you were supposed to."

Erik smiled sadly at her observant nature, "Christine and I don't have that kind of marriage Grace; she doesn't love me."

"I think she does…she looks at you like those ladies looked at the men on the beach." Grace noted; remembering the conversation she and Christine had in which she revealed her true feelings.

Erik chuckled, "You're just a hopeless romantic, Grace…you are reading things into her looks."

Grace shrugged her tiny shoulders and looked at the papers on his desk, "What are you doing Papa?"

Erik did not want to lie to her, but she did not need to know exactly what he was doing, "I am making sure your and Jean Luc's futures are secured…as well as Christine's."

Grace rolled her eyes, "Sounds boring." She said with a genuine yawn. She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

Erik chuckled, despite his pain, "To you…I suppose it would be."

He picked her up in his arms, strode out of the study, and up the stairs towards her room. He was not aware of Christine's presence as she watched him glide elegantly up the stairs. She silently followed him as he entered Grace's room.

He removed her shoes, pulled her dress and underskirt off, placed her pajama gown over her head, and put her between the sheets.

He bent over to give her a kiss on the forehead, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Sing to me, Papa." She begged, "Something new."

Neither one of them heard Christine catch her breath. She had not heard him sing in years and tears came to her eyes in anticipation of hearing that glorious baritone voice. He had only played the piano at the orphanage, so this was going to be wonderful.

He had written a new song not long ago, which reflected the reality of his mortality, and the desire he had to leave some kind of lasting legacy in Grace.

He sat down on the bed, pulled her up into his embrace, and began…

"_**Remember, I will still be here…**_

_**as long as you hold me in your memory.**_

_**Remember, when your dreams have ended,**_

_**time can be transcended…**_

_**just remember me.**_

The words immediately struck Christine. He saw Grace as his legacy to the world that had so long denied his existence. He wanted to be remembered, through her words and thoughts; through the memories she held of him.

"_**I am the one star that keeps burning so brightly,**_

_**it is the last light to fade into the rising sun.**_

_**I'm with you, whenever you tell my story…**_

_**for I…am all I've done.**_

The tears flowed mournfully down her cheeks, as she thought about a world without him. There was no way she could imagine it; she had thought him lost to her once, but that was before she really knew him.

"_**Remember, I will still be here,**_

_**as long as you hold me in your memory…**_

_**Remember me…**_

"_**I am that one voice, that cold wind that whispers…**_

_**and if you listen, you'll hear me call across the sky…**_

_**as long as I still can reach out and touch you**_

_**then I…will never die.**_

The aching tug in her chest painfully reminded her that Erik had endured much in his life: abuse, torture, drug abuse, multiple self-inflicted injuries that almost ended his life. All of these things combined, may have drastically reduced his life span…she may not have a great deal of time with him…

"_**Remember, I'll never leave you**_

_**if you will only remember me.**_

"_**Remember, I will still be here…**_

_**as long as you hold me in your memory.**_

_**Remember when your dreams have ended**_

_**time can be transcended…**_

**_I live forever…remember me, remember me, remember me."_**

Erik laid the sleeping child in his arms down, and wiped the tears from his eyes. Christine had no reason to grant him access to Graces growing up; he knew it would involve her being around him for the rest of his life, but he prayed she would be able to tolerate it.

The song ended and Christine watched, through tear-filled eyes, as he tended to his sleeping daughter. His voice, if possible, was even more intoxicatingly beautiful than it had been in the opera house. She would never grow tired of hearing him. She realized now, that she had loved him through his voice…for many years.

Madeline had heard the voice, which could only be described as angelic, coming from Grace's room. She knew its resonance and distinction, and recognized it as Erik's voice. A chill ran up her spine at the sheer heavenly sound of it. He had sung beautifully as a child, but that did not come close to the masculine perfection she heard now.

She stood in complete awe as he mesmerized everyone within audible range. She cried tears of joy from the blessing she felt at having been a part of bringing such a gifted individual into the world.

Brigitte also stood basking in the brilliance of his voice; the first prominent ability he had displayed for her had been his voice, twenty-five years ago. She had never grown weary of hearing it.

As the song ended, they each wiped the tears from their eyes, and moved away from the door as Erik came through it. He graced them all with a raised brow and quizzical look.

"I have heard that voice so many times in my dreams, from the day I woke up to find you gone." Madeline whispered, "There will never be another who can match the exquisite brilliance of your voice."

Erik balked at her words. He had always thought his mother had despised his voice when he was younger. She had always cried when he sang.

Brigitte smiled at Madeline and then turned her attention to Erik, "That song…the words…they were so profound." She was still wiping the tears from her eyes. "When did you write that?"

Erik shrugged his shoulders at the compliments, as though it was a natural thing to have such gifts, "About two years ago, in Spain." He looked into the expectant faces of three women, "I had just seen the doctor…" he didn't go any further with that, "…I was just thinking about mortality and wanting to leave something behind when it's my time to go."

He could not have been any more evasive. The women, especially Christine, grew concerned about what it was he wasn't saying.

Erik turned from them and headed back downstairs for a hot cup of tea. Before he went too far, he turned and addressed Brigitte and Madeline.

"Why don't the two of you stay in the other guest room, it's late and I don't want you traveling." He advised.

The two women were more than willing to stay for the night and Erik instructed Nancy to ready the room for them.

He finished his evening tea and headed back up the stairs to his room. He passed Christine's room in the process and noticed that her door was open. He rapped softly on the door and her head pricked up to see him. A smile lit her face, but Erik didn't even think that he might be the cause of it.

He did not actually enter the room, instead the eased the door open and stood at the threshold of her room. He watched as she was removed things from the dresser drawers and put them neatly in piles.

"May I ask what you are doing?" Erik voiced, amused with her antics.

Christine looked up at him and smiled brightly, "Are there enough drawers in our bedroom, or will I need to condense…oh! Or better yet, I can move another chest of drawers in there!"

Erik just stood there, not sure of what to say. She actually believed he was going to demand she share a bed with him?

Now, given his already overstressed libido, that would be insanity. He went to her and halted her efforts. He put his hands on her shoulders and slowly turned her around to look at him.

"Christine…" he breathed, very softly, "…I do not expect you to share my room or my bed…" he looked away as her head rose to meet his eyes; he did not want to see the relief in her eyes. "I told you I would make no demands on you…and I am a man of my word."

His head bowed further toward the floor with the weight of his loneliness, "What is important in this arrangement; is that you be happy…" she heard him huff at that, "as best you can."

Christine winced at each word…she knew he desired her; he had made that quite clear. Why wouldn't he claim what was rightfully his? 'Because he's a gentleman, Christine…just as you knew him to be.' Christine said to herself, as prickly tears heated her eyes. 'He'd rather die a thousand deaths than offend you in any way.'

She continued to talk to herself as she watched him leave her room. 'What did you expect Christine, he's never known a woman's touch; and, other than the other night, he's never been kissed.'

The thought of his mouth on hers, and the expert way in which he claimed her mouth…Christine could not help but wonder how it would feel to make love with him. She felt her body react to that thought. The thought of Erik buried deep within her, caused her body temperature to rise and her heart to speed up.

Sex with Raoul had been a chore; a duty; but Erik had managed to make her body ache for him. She knew she needed to step up her efforts at seducing him; the man had a very thick resolve.

She watched him walk back down the stairs and heard him enter his study and shut the door. Christine put her things away, and crawled alone and thoughtful, into her bed.

_Song is "Remember Me", from the motion picture, "Troy"_

_James Horner, composer_

TBC


	21. Chapter 21

This chapter is short…but sweet.

Erik and Christine get close…er

THE DAWN THROUGH THE NIGHT

_**Book IV: Let the Games Begin**_

CHAPTER 21

As proof that God was on her side, nature supplied the next page in Christine's seductive manual the following weekend. The day had been cloudy and dreary, causing everyone to feel the effects very profusely.

Evening rolled around and the rain began to fall around 9 pm. It was a cool, steady rainfall; normal for late September, which supplied an even tempo to lull the residents into a deep sleep.

Christine loved the rain and watched it fall to the ground and bounce back, making little puddles on the cobblestone walkway in front of the estate. It was dark, but the lanterns lit the evening sky just enough to allow her to watch.

"The clouds look rather threatening, don't they?" Erik said as he walked out onto the portico.

The night sky had rolling grey-green clouds that loomed ominously over the earth. Erik sat down on a chair and just watched the storm brewing.

Christine turned from her observation of the rain and looked at Erik. He looked unusually relaxed and content. He had just taken a bath, his hair was hanging wet, and he only wore a cotton, long-sleeved shirt and simple slacks.

She didn't respond to his words about the clouds, choosing to ignore their predictable pattern. She was staring intently at her wedding ring, watching the diamonds twinkle in the lantern lights.

Erik mistook her faraway gaze as one of sadness for the prison of a marriage into which she had been cast. His heart tugged at his chest, and he swallowed the ball in his throat.

"I promise it won't be much longer Christine…" Erik quietly stated, "…I just want to wait the proper amount of time to ensure that all the paperwork is in order."

She looked at him and furrowed her brow, not quite understanding to what he was referring. Then it came to her.

"Erik, I don't want an annulment, I don't want to leave…I've made a home here..." Her eyes were full of unshed tears.

Erik was taken aback by her words, "We agreed when we married…"

Christine started shaking her head before he finished his sentence, "We?" She said with surprise, "There was no 'we' in that decision, Erik."

Erik raised his chin in question as she continued, "You are so used to making all the decisions that concern you and your household, but you did not take into consideration my thoughts on the situation."

Erik was dumbfounded, "Of course, I'm sorry…I just assumed…"

She pleasantly huffed at his words, "Erik, this is my life, too…I love this house, I love the land it sits on…" She thought about confessing her love for him, but thought better of it at this moment, "…everything and everyone I love is here."

Erik shook his head and watched as she went back into the house. He was doomed to remain in a loveless marriage; well, she didn't love him, anyway. He couldn't blame her for wanting the security and stability of marriage, but he never thought she would wish to remain in such close proximity to him.

It wasn't long after Christine went back into the house, that Sam came out onto the portico to smoke his pipe. Erik turned and greeted him.

"Is something troubling you, Master Erik?" Sam asked, after seeing the hurt in his eyes.

Erik looked at the older man and wondered if he dare share with him what was lurking in the deep recesses of his mind.

"Christine does not want an annulment." He said, flatly.

Sam smiled, knowing what that meant, but he had promised not to say a word.

Neither man was aware of Christine as she stood just inside the door; she had forgotten her shawl, lying on the outside furniture. She knew she shouldn't be listening, but she couldn't help herself.

"And this is a bad thing?" Sam asked.

Erik stood and walked toward the pounding rain. "I go through every minute of every day in a constant state of sexual tension with her in the house; now, I will have to endure it for an unprecedented amount of time." He shook his head in frustration, "It is not a pleasant feeling and it's very embarrassing."

Sam was not shocked at the subject; he had told Erik, long ago, he could talk with him about anything.

"I really only have three options: I can ease my frustrations with a prostitute, I can take care of it myself, or have myself surgically neutered." Erik stated with no emotion in his voice.

Sam did not know what to say to that, "Master…"

Erik did not even hear Sam, "A prostitute is out of the question…even if she doesn't love me, I will not cheat on her; the surgery…no." He grimaced, "That only leaves one."

Christine moved from the door and slipped into the parlor, she watched as Erik walked past her and headed upstairs to his room. She was surprised to hear that he was experiencing the same sexually charged agony that she was experiencing; for some reason, she was very happy about that.

When she had heard the choices Erik was considering, she had held her breath. He couldn't go to a prostitute…he just couldn't. The thought of him relieving it himself was enticing and slightly forbidden, but she found she was intrigued. The other suggestion scared her to death.

She waited until he slipped into his room, and then headed up the stairs to her room. This was going to be a very long night with the pictures she had moving through her head.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

As the night progressed, the rain became more forceful and a major thunderstorm brewed in the clouds. The grey-green color of the sky only added to the ferocity of the situation.

By 3 am, the storm had descended upon planet earth and caused a rather large and loud symphony of clapping thunder.

Christine startled out of her deep sleep with a loud scream. She was trembling with the covers pulled over her when Erik threw the door open and ran to her.

He leaned over her and asked, "What is wrong, Christine?"

When she didn't answer, Erik ran to the bed and leaned over her. Christine reached up and wrapped her trembling arms around his strong neck, pulling him down into her embrace. She didn't say a word; she just wanted his protective strength to engulf her.

She was clad only in a sheer gown, her ample breasts teasing him through the material with their promise of pleasure.

"Christine," he asked again, "are you alright?"

She shook her head "no" and finally found her voice, "I'm…terrified…of…thunderstorms." She finally admitted, each word shaking with the force of her fear.

Erik closed his eyes to the unmitigated desire that rippled through him. He fought the urge to rip the clothes from her body and claim its sweet paradise for himself. She felt so yielding and vulnerable in his arms, with her body molded perfectly to his, and her pouting, kissable mouth just inches from his.

He placed her back down on the bed and tried to pry her arms from around his neck. She had a death hold on him, from which he was having a hard time dislodging himself.

"My dear, you have to let go of me in order to get any sleep." Erik stated.

His words only succeeded in her pulling him more tightly to her. He fell onto the bed, having lost his footing on the floor.

"Don't leave me, Erik." She pleaded with a small, helpless voice.

What was he going to do now? She pleaded with him to lie beside her and hold her in his safe, strong arms; but Erik knew that she should be running out of the room in fear of him.

"What is you wish me to do?" He inquired.

She pulled closer to him, something Erik had thought was impossible. He could feel the peaks of her breasts resting against his chest. He eased his eyes shut at the pleasure he elicited from their teasing.

She was trembling in his arms, so he stretched out beside her with his long frame and wrapped her fully in his warmth. He pulled the comforter over them both.

Christine moaned from the joy of having him next to her and snuggled her nose into his neck. Erik thought she was moaning from the warmth and couldn't understand why she nuzzled him.

She was still shaking, causing Erik to be concerned. The storm raged outside and another clap of thunder sounded, hitting a tree in the neighbor's yard. The loud smack caused another scream from Christine and she wrapped her legs around Erik's hips, pulling him closer to her still.

His manhood reacted to this in the usual way, by making its demands known. Erik groaned from the sweet agony that her actions were causing him; she probably had no idea of the torture through which she was putting him.

"Make me forget the storm, Erik…please, make me forget." She implored.

Erik had no idea…what was he supposed to do?

"How Christine…tell me?" His words were soft and comforting, causing a thrill to run up Christine's spine.

She nuzzled his neck, and coyly kissed the hot skin she touched. She would just have to show him how to keep her mind off the storm.

He smelled like musk and spice, filling her head with images of far away places and seductive nights. She drank him in with her nostrils and tasted him with her tongue.

She ran the very soft, tip of her tongue up the length of his neck, causing Erik to be the one trembling. He raised his chin, allowing her greater access to his neck.

She eased her lips over his jaw line, and slowly fluttered her tongue around the outer edge of his luscious mouth.

He knew she was only doing this to forget the fear that raced through her, but Erik was going to enjoy all that she offered him, if only for a moment.

Her lips firmly claimed his in a passionate kiss. The fear in her had turned into something else, something far more powerful – desire.

She moved over his mouth with expert tenderness and seductive technique. She darted her tongue over his lips, begging for entrance into his warmth.

This move forced a moan from Erik, making his mouth open to her beckoning tongue. She wrapped her tongue around his, causing him to grind his throbbing erection into her womb.

She moved her hands over his powerful chest, feeling the satin of his nightshirt and knowing that she wanted it off him. She deftly worked the buttons with her fingers as she worked his mouth with her tongue.

Erik hadn't even realized she was undoing his shirt until he felt her hands explore his heated flesh. She kept his mouth busy with the thrust of her tongue, and caused ripples of pleasure through him with the feel of her hands on his chest.

She tickled him with her feather light touch; a seductive, playful tickle that caused his already engorged erection to expand even more. He was losing this battle and he was not sure she was aware of that.

Her wet little tongue left his mouth and crept down his neck toward his chest. Erik hissed as a brand new sensation ripped through him. His body was on fire with desire and he wasn't completely confident in his ability to stop.

If he could have read Christine's mind, he would have found that she wanted things to progress to that point. She was enthralled with his body, his feel, his smell, his touch…everything. How had he become such a great kisser? His body was formed perfectly, and it molded to hers as if it had been created with her in mind.

She lightly, teasingly ran her tongue over an erect male nipple, causing Erik to hiss and buck beneath her. His hands were on her hips, forcing her into his huge erection. He moaned as she massaged his nipples with her tongue and hands.

He writhed beneath her, and knew he would expel his seed into his clothing if things did not stop now. He had never been exposed to this powerful pleasure before. He had never pleasured himself; choosing to push his sexuality to the depths of his being and never face its irritating pull.

"Christine!" a voice beseeched.

Erik knew it was his voice, but the raspy, passion-filled sound was foreign to him.

"Christine, we must stop." He gently pulled her off his chest and sat up. "You are not fully aware of what you are doing, and I cannot allow this to continue or I may do something we will both regret when the sun shines."

Her disappointed, stricken eyes focused on his gorgeous features. "Erik…"

"The storm has subsided…I will stay here with you if you want, but I will sleep on top of the covers." He stated, as though making negotiations for a contract.

Christine accepted his terms, but she heard the disappointment in his voice. He had been completely engrossed in their passionate foreplay; every bit as much as she had been.

Christine smiled as she turned over in her bed and wrapped his arms around her; she thanked the Lord for a thunderstorm that may very well have been a turning point in her marriage.

TBC


	22. Chapter 22

Things will be heating up between our lovebirds (even if they haven't admitted it yet), so hold on to your hearts.

Thanks for the wonderful reviews, keep 'em coming!

THE DAWN THROUGH THE NIGHT

_**Book V: Making You Mine**_

CHAPTER 22

Erik awoke early and climbed off the bed undetected. Christine was curled up on her side, nuzzling against his non-existent body. She was the picture of perfection in his eyes. Her hair was tousled and she had a slight bit of drool running out of her mouth and down her cheek; its presence made Erik chuckle.

There was no woman who moved him like Christine. Everything about her gripped his soul. He quietly left the room and went down stairs.

He walked out onto the wrap around portico. It surrounded the entire house and it was something Erik liked very much. He had never spent much time outside; only a few minutes here and there on top of the opera house or walking the night streets of whatever city he was in.

Since Grace had come into his life, he found the sun tended to remove some of the dreaded darkness in his soul and he loved how it felt on his skin.

He scanned the landscape; noticing some downed branches and debris that had been disbursed by last nights storm.

Last night; what memories came rushing through him as thought about it. Erik didn't know what to make of Christine's ardent attention. She had been petrified, no doubt; but she had willingly allowed him into her arms and even made him feel as though she wanted him there.

He pulled his arms over his head and stretched his spine, feeling the tingle it caused. Sam was coming up the walk; he had just come from town.

"Good morning, Master Erik." He greeted with enthusiasm.

Erik nodded and responded with, "Sam."

"Master Erik, allow me to put up my purchases and then would you do me the honor of taking a walk with me?" Sam suggested.

Erik cast Sam a puzzled look, but agreed with a nod.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Erik and Sam walked the property, examining the fencing and the grounds. Sam pointed out some areas that were in need to repair and asked what Erik was planning to do with the back of the property; he had been clearing it and making room for something.

"I want to build a house for my mother and Brigitte, so they will be closer to Grace and Jean Luc." Erik pointed out, "My mother has had some serious health risks in the past; I just want her close."

Sam showed his agreement and they continued to walk for a few more feet before he asked, "What are you going to do, Master Erik?" When Erik looked at him he asked, "About Madam Christine?"

"I'm going to do the best I can to make her happy." Erik replied.

Sam stopped and looked up in to the face of the man he had grown to love as a son, "Last night you admitted that you were frustrated and stated three options you had to choose from."

Erik nodded, remembering the conversation.

Sam looked him deep in the eyes, "Why don't you exercise your husbandly rights?"

Erik shook his head violently, "No, her ex-husband made her participate every night, and she said it sickened her…" Erik gulped, "…I can only imagine what horrors she would experience with the deed being done by a less then attractive man who has no idea what he's doing."

Sam frowned at that knowledge; he wondered, had her own husband raped her? That thought revolted him.

"She cares for you, Master; I see it in her eyes every time she looks at you." Sam assured him.

Erik sighed, exasperatingly, "Caring for me and being in love with me…are two different things."

Sam examined Erik through narrowed, intelligent eyes, "Do you love her?"

Erik stopped abruptly and turned toward Sam, "With all that I am."

Sam squared his shoulders and stood his 5 foot, 10 inch frame as tall as it would go. "Then I suggest that you do something about it."

Erik looked more confused than he had ever been, "How?"

"Take her on a honeymoon; you two never had any time to get to know each other after you married." Sam suggested. He leaned into Erik and winked, "You may find that she is as frustrated as you are."

The rest of the walk was taken in stride, with only a lighthearted conversation. Erik promised Sam that he would asked Christine, but he would not be surprised if she declined.

"She won't decline." Sam stated with affirmation.

"I wish I had your confidence." Erik muttered.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Later that evening, the sun was setting in the horizon and Erik was watching the canvas of the sky as vivid, indescribable colors painted its surface.

He had gotten back from the build site not too long ago. He had gone there to tell Charles that he was taking some time away. He was, after all, the boss; so he decided he would do as he pleased.

"I'm going to spend some, much needed, time with my daughter and son; and then, I do believe I am going to take my lovely wife on the honeymoon she should have had a few months ago."

Charles more than agreed with him, and assured him that the schedule would be kept and the project would finish on time.

"Tell Christine I say 'hello'." Charles said as Erik walked to his carriage.

Erik waved and rode home.

Now, he sat; hoping that the opportune time would present itself. He couldn't stand the tension, so he arose from the his seat and walked back into the house. He made his way to the music room and felt the usual passion within his soul that music always managed to evoke from him.

The piano beckoned him like a decadent seductress, forbidding him to resist her charms. He caressed the glistening black surface of the piano with his long, expert fingers, and glided onto the bench.

He closed his eyes and cleared his mind, allowing the melodies in his head to talk to him. He heard his favorites calling to him and he placed his fingers on the keys and surrendered.

Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata", Chopin's "Raindrop Prelude", Handel's "Largo" were just a few of the songs he played, bringing the room alive with his proficient abilities.

Christine had heard the first piano tone, and had immediately made her way toward the heavenly sound.

Erik was not aware of her warm body standing directly behind him, until there was a pause in the music and her felt her behind him.

"Christine." He moaned

She said nothing; she didn't have to. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned in towards his ear, raking her tongue sensuously across its sensitive curve; the words she sang sent shivers of ecstasy up Erik's spine…

"_You have come here  
In pursuit of your deepest urge  
In pursuit of that wish which till now  
Has been silent …  
Silent."_

She ran her hands over the silky material of his shirt, fluttering over the taunt surface of his abdomen, and began unbuttoning it with fluid motions. His eyes were closed as she mesmerized him with the sensual lyrics he had intended for her…

_"I have brought you  
That our passions may fuse and merge  
In your mind you've already succumbed to me, dropped all defenses  
Completely succumbed to me.  
Now you are here with me…  
No second thoughts …  
You've decided…   
Decided."_

She marveled in the beauty of his features as he completely yielded to her seductive taunts. She penetrated the barrier of his shirt and removed it from him, leaving his upper body exposed to her hungry eyes.

She caressed his sculptured chest with her warm, searching hands; brushing them seductively over the hardened male nipples. His sharp intake of breath, almost made Christine lose her concentration.

As she continued, she grazed her tongue along the sensitive flesh of his shoulders and neck.

"_Past the point of no return  
No backward glances  
Our games of make-believe are at an end._

"Past all thought of "if" or "when"  
No use resisting  
Abandon thought and let the dream descend"

Christine moved to stand in front of him and sat down in his lap. She turned to straddle his hips and immediately became aware of his straining erection. She pushed up against it with her body, and marveled at the deep, intense green his eyes had become as they shot open and focused on her.

"What raging FIRE shall flood the soul  
What rich desire unlocks its door  
What sweet seduction lies before us?

"Past the point of no return  
The final threshold  
What warm unspoken secrets  
Will we learn  
beyond the point of no return?"

She paused; her lips a hairs breadth away from his. She practically whispered the next phrase, as her lips entranced him…

_"You have brought me  
To that moment when words run dry  
To that moment when speech disappears  
Into silence…  
Silence._"

Christine nuzzled Erik's neck and as she sang the next stanza. She moved down his neck and worshiped his chest with her hands and lips; skirting over his heated, sensitized flesh. The words he had written making them both delirious for fulfillment.

_"I have come here,   
Hardly knowing the reason why  
In my mind I've already imagined  
Our bodies entwining  
Defenseless and silent,  
Now I am here with you  
No second thoughts  
I've decided   
Decided._

_"Past the point of no return  
No going back now  
Our passion-play has now at last begun._

"Past all thought of right or wrong  
One final question  
How long should we two wait before we're one?" 

Erik was oblivious to anything around him except her succulent mouth on this hungry skin. His soft moans made the lyrics that much more profound and erotic. She was driving him to the brink of insanity with her seductive tactics and his own lusty words.

_"When will the blood begin to race  
The sleeping bud burst into bloom  
When will the flames at last CONSUME us?_

"Past the point of no return  
The final threshold  
The bridge is crossed  
So stand and watch it burn  
We've passed the point of no return."

When the last line was on her lips, she moved to his mouth and claimed it. Her hands encompassed his face as she drank of him.

He reacted to her intensely, diving into her sweet, hot mouth with his strong, skilled tongue. She meant every thrust and dive with a thrust and dive of her own. The sounds of their kisses were making both of them lose control.

Erik, not mindful of what he was doing, roamed his hands over her thighs; pulling the skirt of her lightweight gown up her legs until he touched the soft flesh hidden beneath. He devoured her mouth, moved his hands over the swell of her backside, and squeezed the flesh until she moaned even louder.

His hands on her and the intoxicating kisses he was giving her, made Christine completely breathless with desire.

Erik felt her hand reach down and cup his bulging erection and he bolted upright. He quieted her hand with his and captured her eyes.

"Christine…darling…how can you tease me so and yet despise the very act this is leading to?" He asked, with passion in his words.

Christine's smoldering eyes looked with confusion into his. She had forgotten the words she had spoken all those months ago…no wonder Erik stopped short of consummating this marriage…he thought she was sickened by the idea of making love to him.

She smiled and brought her hand from his erection to his face, caressing his marred cheek, "I despised it with Raoul…he sickened me." she leaned in and placed kisses along his cheek and neck. "He never cared about my needs."

She smiled wickedly, ran her tongue along the ridge of his ear, and sucked his lobe into her mouth, shooting another bolt of excitement through Erik, eliciting a moan. His voice was raspy and low, filled with unrelenting desire; and his eyes were a molten shade of green.

"I don't know where this is leading, but I have a question to ask you." He purred.

Christine pulled slightly away from him to stare into his inimitable eyes, "What would that be?" She asked with a raised brow.

"Would you like to have a honeymoon in Greece?" He inquired; a slight smile playing about his sexy mouth.

Christine's face lit up and she threw herself at him, hugging his neck with strength he did not know she possessed. Her high-pitched squeal alerted the house and Nancy came running, thinking someone was hurt.

What she saw made her heart leap for joy. Her master, the man whose life had been one torturous moment after another, was beaming from ear to ear, and the woman he loved with every beat of his heart, was planting kisses all over his face.

TBC


	23. Chapter 23

Thank you for over 200 reviews! This is a first for me! I am so pleased with the response to this story, and I must admit, I have enjoyed writing an Erik/Christine…because I can make Christine the way I want her to be.

I am not sure how much more of this story is left; I'm not sure how much I want to delve into their lives together…I don't believe in a great deal of drama for my Erik, I want him to live a normal life with ups and downs, but that does not make for interesting reading.

There are several chapters left, at least…just letting you know.

THE DAWN THROUGH THE NIGHT

CHAPTER 23

Erik could not help the joyous smile that covered his face. He inadvertently had given Christine a gift she had never thought to have. She had always been fascinated with ancient Greek history, but had never even considered the possibility of going to Greece.

"Oh Erik! Thank you so much." She hugged his neck, repeatedly, and Erik had no choice but to wrap his arms around her and hug her back.

After releasing her, he stood up from the bench, retrieved his shirt, and turned to Nancy. He was heading towards her when Christine rushed past him and grasped the older woman's shoulders in a half-hug.

"Erik is taking me to Greece on our honeymoon!" She could not keep the glee out of her voice or the grin off her face.

Nancy showed the same enthusiasm, "Greece…I have always wanted to go there…so exotic and romantic." Nancy winked at Christine in a way that only she could see.

Erik placed his hand in the small of Christine's back, feeling suddenly as though he had a right to put it there. He bent down and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek.

She turned her smiling face toward him as he spoke, "I'm going to go find Grace and try and explain why she can't come with us." He explained, and headed out the door.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Christine asked.

Erik smiled; taking Christine's breath away. "No, you chat with Nancy."

He walked out and Christine and Nancy continued to chat about the wonderful experience Greece was going to be.

He knocked on Grace's door as he entered, making her aware of his presence. She ran to him as she finished her evening reading. He pulled her up into his arms and carried her over to her bed.

"Papa, next time we play chess, I am going to win!" She exclaimed, referencing their earlier challenge. Erik did not go any easier on her than anyone, and it showed; at the age of eight, she was a formidable opponent…to everyone except Erik.

"I have no doubt that you will."

Her sulking eyes lifted up to his and she wrapped her face in mock sadness, "Do I have to go to bed…can't I stay up longer?" she wriggled her arms around his neck and placed tickly little kisses on his face, "Please, Papa…pretty please."

Erik chuckled at her insistence, "I do have something I need to talk to you about."

She unwound from his neck and sat beside him on the bed, intently looking into his eyes.

"Christine and I have been married for four months now, and I never did give her a proper honeymoon…" he looked into her eyes and saw that she was fully engrossed in what he was saying, "…I am going to take her to Greece for a couple of weeks."

Grace smiled and clapped her hands, "Greece!" Her eyes lit up with a keen intelligence far beyond her years, "Imagine the history and the art…"

She stopped for a minute and looked into her father's controlled eyes, "I know I'm not going, Papa…honeymoons are for grown-ups."

Erik chuckled, he had never hidden anything from her; and in the process, had made her a force to be reckoned with. She rivaled any male, twice her age, in all the major academic subjects; and far surpassed most of the students he had seen in her mastery of the arts.

"I just wanted you to hear it from me, ma joli." Erik cooed.

She smiled and he felt his heart melt even more as she wrapped him further around her finger, "When do you leave?"

Erik reached his hand up and pulled several strands of wayward raven hair out of her eyes. "In three days we will catch the train for Bari, Italy and then the boat from there to Igoumenitsa, Greece."

She shook her head, knowing the places he spoke of, "How long will you be gone?"

"Travel time and all, about three weeks."

Her face suddenly lit up with a new excitement, "Can Grandmamma and Aunt Brigitte come and stay with me while you're gone?"

"Of course, they'll be over tomorrow, we'll ask then." He smiled down at her.

The moved over onto his lap and hugged him, "I love you papa."

He hugged her back; suddenly realizing he had what could only be defined as joy in his heart. He pointed his face towards heaven and silently addressed the eyes he knew were watching him, "I feel your knowing smile Desiree, and I hear your 'I told you so' in my head."

He closed his eyes as he held his daughter and could have sworn her heard Desiree's lilting laughter dancing on the air.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Is she alright with it?" Christine asked, as Erik descended the stairs toward her.

Every movement he made was regal and elegant, watching him was like watching a fine piece of art come alive.

"I am going to ask my mother and Brigitte to come and stay at the estate while we are gone…they will both be here tomorrow, I'll ask then."

He tentatively reached out and took her hand, holding its warmth in his own. He gently beckoned her to follow him as he silently headed toward the library.

He led her through the library, through his office area, and behind a hidden door. She had not known this room existed. It contained an easel, pottery wheel, a large work table covered with various unfinished sculptures and carvings, and all the paint brushes, charcoal, paints, wax…whatever an artist could want, to make his creativity come to life.

In the corner of the room was a chaise lounge, piled high with pillows and various colored pieces of material.

She walked around the room, lovingly surveying the artistic outlets of the man she was blessed to call her husband.

"I spend hours in here…times when the household thinks I'm in my office perusing paperwork." Erik stated, dreamily.

Christine looked at him in complete awe, "I knew you had so many skills, but I never knew you were so…gifted."

She looked at the works of his hands and shivered, knowing what those hands would soon be doing to her. He was an expert at everything he did; lovemaking would be no different.

She could hardly wait for him to yield to his feral side, throw his inhibitions to the wind, and claim her in wild abandonment.

Pride shown in Erik's eyes, a pride she had never seen before. He may not be happy with the way he looked, but he took pride in the abilities he possessed.

Christine went to his side and took his arm in a loving embrace, "Thank you, Erik…for sharing this sanctuary with me."

He smiled down at her and led her out, "We leave in three days…tomorrow, I want you to take whomever you wish, and go into town…buy dresses, hats, shoes…whatever you need for our trip to Greece."

Christine grinned at the prospect…she had not been shopping, really shopping, for months. Erik had bought her some gowns when she first started working for him…beautiful gowns, but she had worn them so much, they were looking tattered.

They reached the top of the stairs and Erik went to let go of Christine's hand and head to his room. She would not let go, and wrapped her other hand around his to prevent him from pulling away.

"I will not sleep alone…again." She said doggedly; her eyes daring him to refute her.

He saw the warning behind her chocolate eyes, and continued toward his room with her hand still in his. He knew she was wearing down his defenses with every kiss and touch; he was also intelligent enough to know that she desired him; as hard as that was for him to accept, he was tired of doubting it and living with the hate he felt for himself.

For too many years he had lived under a blanket of darkness; hating his face, hating his body, hating just about everything about himself. He was tired of being sulky, depressed, lonely, and bitter.

Christine offered him a chance at some form of happiness, though it was not the love that he longed for. She cared for him and desired him; that would have to be enough for him.

He loved her more and more as every day passed and swore to himself he would never cease to let her know that; in deed now, and in words - just as soon as he mustered enough courage to allow them to leave his mouth.

He looked down into her expectant eyes, eased his body closer to her, and caressed the soft skin of her cheek with the length of his long, masculine fingers.

It was time for a change…

"Share my room, Christine…" Erik lifted her chin and planted a kiss on her moist lips, "…and my bed."


	24. Chapter 24

Most of you will probably want to kill me after this chapter; but there is an upside to that – you have to find me first! I love keeping you guessing (or squirming), whichever applies; it's part of my charm!

Oh, and to date, there has been no consummation of this marriage. I hope that clarifies matters, PrimaDonnaKate; and thanks for taking the time to read my story. I have gone back and corrected the wording to make the meaning clearer.

THE DAWN THROUGH THE NIGHT

**_Book V: Making You Mine_**

CHAPTER 24

He led her into the warm, sensual, refuge of his room. She immediately noted the way the atmosphere held his magnetism and the room smelled of his scent; leather, fine musk, Persian spices…the soap in which he bathed.

She breathed in its intoxicating aroma and allowed her eyes to close at the heavenly thrill that filled her being. The man completely consumed her…and she welcomed it with all that she was.

Erik used his uncanny ability to see in the dark and walked over to light the lamp by his bed. It illuminated the room in seductive shadows and created an even more powerfully erotic ambiance with its dancing flame.

If Erik was feeling the same sexually overwhelming power that she was experiencing, he hid it quite well. He moved about the room; pulling back the covers on the bed, starting a fire, and then moved into the washroom.

Christine took the few minutes that he would be in the washroom and stripped down to her chemise and corset. It was a deep, midnight blue with silver shreds of satin running through it. The corset was a gift to herself a few weeks ago, in hopes that her relationship with Erik would escalate the way she wanted it to.

She was nervous, and she had no idea why. She certainly was no virgin coming to Erik's bed; but he was. Her love for him eased her nerves and allowed her to smile in anticipation.

Erik had been in the washroom for some time, and Christine was beginning to worry that the passion from earlier had dissipated and he had talked himself out of it. She made her way over to the door, put her ear to it, and listened for any indication as to what he was doing.

She heard the water running and could smell the aroma of the wonderful soap he used wafting its way under the door and into the room. A few seconds passed and she heard him turn off the water. She still had her ear to the door when she saw the light turn down and heard him approaching.

She ran over to the bed and lay on her stomach in the middle, her legs in the air with the ankles crossed, and her chin perched atop her meshed fingers. The door opened and she beheld a half-nude Erik standing in the doorway.

He wore a white shirt unbuttoned all the way over a pair of well-fitting black pants. His hair was loose and hung around his face, creating a black halo effect. He wore his white half-mask, which only added to his majestic persona.

When Erik came out of the washroom, it was all he could do to not gawk at the woman who reclined in the middle of his bed. She had stripped down to only her chemise and the most beautiful corset he had ever seen.

He slowly approached the bed, noticing that her eyes never left him. He sat down on the bed with one foot curled under him and the other dangling off the side.

"Erik…" Christine began.

"Shhhhh, Chéri…there are no words…just let me touch you." He pleaded, worshipfully.

She started to role over, but Erik stopped her with just his husky voice, "Don't move, I just want to look at you and touch at my leisure."

She smiled seductively at his words, pulled her hair around to spray over the mattress to the side, and closed her eyes. He was in no rush…that had to be the sexiest thing she had ever known.

Erik had never seen a woman in such array. Her skin glowed in the amber light of the lamp; resembling a fine topaz gem. Its soft surface called to him much as the strands of a melody did as it longed for release through the magic of his genius.

The curve of her backside enticed the fingers on his hands to extradite pleasure from its soft, plump mounds to his ready and willing body. He moaned from the sheer joy of leisurely raking his eyes over her perfection.

Her glorious hair fanned out over the mattress to the right side of her face and her expression was such that one would think she was exacting pleasure just from being visually adulated.

Erik leaned onto his left arm and began at her feet. He reached his right hand out and took her petite foot in it. He marveled at how tiny it was in his large, masculine hand. Her toes were even perfect, at least in his eyes. He feathered his fingers over her slender ankle and began moving up her leg.

She was sleek and lithe of limb. Her calves were perfectly formed and so very slender. He bent his head down and placed a kiss at the back of her knee, causing a moan to escape Christine's lips.

Erik became bolder at the insistence of her moans. He flit his tongue over the soft skin at the back of her knee and continued his exploration of her leg. His long, agile fingers melded the flesh of her thigh as he erotically pushed the material of her chemise over the curve of her hips and derriere.

He lowered his head and kissed the velvety flesh of her inner thigh, noticing how she opened them to his touch. He felt himself respond to the musky scent of her arousal, knowing she was reacting to _his_ touch. He groaned as his erection strained against the confines of his pants.

He continued kissing the flesh of her thigh as his hand made its way to her backside. Christine's breathing was heavy and she reacted by spreading her legs even more to Erik's wandering hands and mouth.

Erik felt a smile flutter over his face; she was as passionate with her body as she was with her voice…an attribute Erik had sensed in her years ago. She had been a rose bud in her purity, just waiting for the kiss of the sun to bring her to life. She had admitted that Raoul had not been that sun.

Now, under the ministrations of his virgin hands and novice mouth, she had found her sun; and she leaned into it for dear life. Her bare womanhood lay open to his hungry eyes. He had never seen a woman's sex before, only what was in the books he had read.

He could see the moist evidence of her desire and knew it to be the source of the musky scent he had caught on the air. He resolved himself to not touch that most sensitive of areas; not yet.

She moaned as he ran his hands over the bare flesh of her backside and skimmed them under the material of her corset. Christine yearned for him to rid her of the unwanted piece of clothing, but Erik seemed to be enchanted with just touching her.

If she had been in this state with Raoul, he would have thrown her on her back and been done with her by now; but Erik….was just getting started. She had never reasoned that it could be like this…he had her so aroused with the touch of his hands and the occasional sweep of his lips, that she thought she would burst with desire.

How did he know to do such things? He claimed to know nothing about loving a woman…but Christine had never felt more loved than she did at his moment…and he had never said he loved her – not with words.

She felt no shame at having exposed her sex to him, he was her husband, and tonight…she would truly become his wife. She felt his hand as it found the soft down of her neck and softly caressed its warmth.

He moved his fingers to the curls of her hair and tenderly wrapped one around his finger. He let it go and watched it spring back and bounce. The softness amazed him and the scent of lavender heightened his arousal even more.

He leaned his large, broad chest over her and raised a handful of hair to his nose, breathing in her scent. He moved down and nuzzled the back of her neck with his nose and lips, causing a shiver of desire to run through Christine.

"You humble me with your perfection…I feel unworthy of resting my eyes on you." Erik whispered into her ear.

Christine smiled gently at his words, "My body is merely the instrument…you are the master." Her voice was husky and full of pent-up desire.

"Turn over, my love…I want to see all of you."

He hadn't even been aware of the truth as it escaped his mouth…his love for her had been such a part of him for years, that it only seemed natural to allow it to finally soar on words into her ears.

Christine had heard his admission and could not help the tears that sprang to her eyes. How long had she waited to hear those words on his lips?

When she faced him, Erik saw the tears in her eyes and felt his heart lurch. Why did she cry? Was she terrified? Was she regretful? Or were they tears of joy? He had to know.

He reached his callused thumb up and captured a tear as it rolled down her face headed for her hairline.

"Why do you cry?" he asked, baffled by her tears.

Christine reached her hands up and cradled his face, "You called me, 'my love' – you've never done that before."

Erik realized that she spoke the truth, his true feelings had been laid out to her…what would she do with them?

He continued to stroke her cheek with his thumb, as he stretched his long frame out beside her.

"I can no longer keep it inside, my heart has spilled it from my lips…I love you Christine…God help me, but I do." He knew he could not hold his own tears back, so they ran down his cheeks, making the mask uncomfortable.

She knew his mask was causing him discomfort, so she reached up and removed it. Erik reached to cover his face, but she caught his hand and brought it to her lips for a kiss.

She lifted her wanton, sincere eyes to his and smiled, "I love you too, Erik…" she reached up and tenderly touched the deformity that had haunted him all his life.

She watched as his beautiful eyes filled with tears of joy. "I never thought to hear you say those words to me…I was prepared to live my life without hearing them, just to have you by my side."

"I will never leave your side, as long as I live." She assured him, and he saw the proof in her eyes. She placed a seductive, one-sided, smile on her lips and said, "Now, my love, finish what you started."

Erik fixed her with and innocent stare, "Are you sure you don't want to wait until the honeymoon?"

Christine rolled her eyes and sighed loudly, "If you make me wait, Erik Christoph Destler, I will die of want and I shall come back and haunt you."

His deft fingers made their way over the material of her corset; he playfully wound the string holding it together, around his index finger. His smoldering eyes captured her with their passion-filled intensity.

"Your wish is my command." He purred.

And the string began to give.

TBC


	25. Chapter 25

You've all been very patient with me, as I built up the suspense – moving toward that consummate moment in their lives.

Mini Nicka, if you thought the last one was overdone, this one will really do you in.

Your wait is over. EXPLICIT MATERIAL AHEAD. You have been warned.

Enjoy.

THE DAWN THROUGH THE NIGHT

**_Book V: Making You Mine_**

CHAPTER 25

To Christine, it was as though time stood still. She watched as Erik undid her corset one pull after another, slowly revealing the rest of her silky chemise. His fingers lightly brushed the camber of her breasts, but never fully touched them.

She closed her eyes as uninhibited feelings of desire rushed through her; the fact that a man with Erik's strength could be so tender and gentle brought tears to her eyes.

He finished with the strings and laid the folds of the corset out, allowing her easier breathing and allowing his eyes to see the outline of her breasts against the sheer material.

The peaks jutted out, calling to him for attention. His mouth watered in anticipation of tasting her and he skimmed his palm over the material, teasing those peaks to a throbbing, aching tautness.

Christine writhed beneath his proficient hands. She longed for him to take the fullness of her breast into his hand and render her senseless with his touch.

Erik had no idea that his novice touches were driving her to a bursting point. He adored her body with his hands and eyes. He pulled away from her and stood beside the bed; he reached a hand out to her and she came to him, knees on the bed, with her upper body parallel to his.

He put his hands on her and caressed the material of her chemise as he slowly lowered the sleeves over her shoulders. He bent his head and softly put his lips to the scented skin of her neck and shoulder, reigning passionate nibbles along her shoulder blade.

Christine flung her head back and relished the feel of his mouth on her throat, as he drank in her essence. He lowered the chemise over her swollen breasts, but did not immediately pull back to look at her.

He landed his mouth on hers for the first kiss they had shared since this erotic dance had started. He probed her mouth with his sleek tongue, meeting her passion with his. He drank of the nectar of her lips and mouth, moaning into her with abandonment.

His hand, which had rested on her hips, began a slow ascent up her abdomen. He traced the outline of her bellybutton, felt the soft swell of her ribcage, and then trailed his thumbs across the underside of her breasts, exploring the softness of that forbidden flesh.

His tongue worked her mouth as his hands worked her body; bringing her to the point of release with just his touch. He reached his hands behind her and gently raised her off the bed, pressing her body into his.

He lifted her with his right hand under her knees and his left hand behind her back. He carried her around to the other side of the bed and lowered her onto it, and then he lay atop her.

He lavished her with hot, wet kisses and then moved down to her neck and shoulders, then he pulled back to look at her generous bosom.

He had imagined what it would be like to really look at a woman, but nothing he imagined had prepared him for the reality. He lay there just looking at her for a few minutes.

Slowly, his hands eased up her ribcage and encaged her breasts. Christine finally allowed the moan she had been holding, to escape her mouth. He circled her erect nipples with his thumbs and forefingers and felt them grow even harder in his hands.

He squeezed the flesh with firm pressure and heard Christine's passionate hiss as she closed her eyes and reveled in the feel of his hands on her aching body.

He feathered his fingers over her heated skin and drew circles on her flesh as he watched her body come alive from his touch. There was a smile of complete and utter joy on his face as he adored her.

He lowered his mouth to one aching peak and circled its tightness with his tongue, moaning as he did so. He circled and circled it and then placed his lips over it; Christine wound her hands in his hair.

"Ohhhh, yesssss." She moaned, as he took the aching flesh in to his mouth. He suckled her as she pushed him into her even further. He suckled on her and circled her nipple at the same time and Christine let out a loud sigh.

He paid the same homage to the other breast and by the time he once again took her mouth with his, she was breathing so heavily and thinking about no one or no thing, except Erik.

She cradled his face in her hands and returned his passionate kiss; dancing with his tongue and making him moan into her mouth.

She moved her hands to his chest and rendered unto his maleness the same treatment he had given her breasts. She felt the engorged flesh of his manhood resting against the inner part of her thighs and she pushed into it, causing his eyes to roll back into this head and a throaty, husky, groan to escape his mouth.

She roamed over the scorching flesh of his chest and eased downward. Erik stopped her perusal with his hand and leaned into her ear, "Not yet…there's so much I want to do." he spoke in broken syllables as she continued to stroke his stiffness with her thigh. "Once we get to that point, I won't last long."

She smiled lovingly up at him, "I love you, Erik…I'm yours to do with as you will."

Tears shot to his eyes as he worked his way down her body, one kiss at a time. He dove his tongue into her navel, not knowing why that simple act shot erotic pictures of entangled limbs and undulating bodies into his mind.

He caressed the soft, flat, surface of her abdomen and his heightened senses caught her arousal in the air. He positioned himself between her thighs, wrapped his arms around them, and opened her up to his hungry eyes.

Christine had no idea what he was doing, but her heart rate increased in anticipation of his next move. Forbidden images crossed her mind, whispered words of a taboo passion that was only discussed in hushed tones among best friends.

She had only heard bits and pieces about it, but what she had heard only served to stimulate her interest. When she felt his long, proficient fingers exploring her most private flesh, she could not help the shocked moan of desire that came from her.

He opened her up to his adoring eyes and marveled at the way she was made; the different textures of skin and the blending of colors. The nodule he knew held exquisite pleasure for her, protruded out toward him; inviting him to explore even further.

She was very aroused; her body announced that with its reactions. He ran his thumb over the swollen extension and Christine jerked, clutching the sheets in her hands and rolling her head back and forth.

He put his mouth where his thumb had been and sucked the erect bud into his mouth; moaning when she bucked her hips to meet his mouth. She raised up slightly, allowing her a view of his dark head between her thighs. She reached down and clutched his hair in her hands, pushed his head further into her, and flung her head back from the exquisite pleasure he was giving her.

A smile of joy rested on her flushed features and she ground into him with her hips. She heard animalistic moaning and realized it belonged to her. She felt a building up of prickly tingles all over her body, her toes curled, and her nipples ached to be caressed.

She put her hands on her body and massaged her throbbing nipples as she approached a pinnacle she had only encountered at the caress of he own hand. She could not stop the primal sounds that she heard from her throat as ripples spread across her body and she bucked against the mouth that was bringing her to her first non-self induced orgasm.

Erik meant each buck of her hips and lapped up each drop of her essence, as he pleasured in a way he had only read about. He lathed his tongue over her pulsating sex and reveled in the taste of her.

He felt the change in her heart rate and heard the guttural breathing that indicated she was reaching her climax; Erik clasped onto her nub and sucked her to the highest realm of pleasure. She had only experienced release from her own touch, never during sex. She slammed the back of her hand into her mouth to muffle the yelps that were barreling forth from her.

Erik took one last sweep with his tongue and began kissing his way back up her body. Her nipples were still rock hard, and he took the time to draw each of them into his warm mouth, as Christine moaned from her release, but felt herself reacting to his sensuous mouth.

Erik cupped her breasts in is hands as his mouth moved up to claim hers. She tasted her essence on his tongue and smelled herself on him. He dueled with her tongue as she sought supremacy over him. She grasped his shoulders firmly, and rolled him over.

She stretched over him and he became acutely aware of her breasts pressed against the broad expanse of his chest. She was everywhere; in his head, on his tongue, under his hands…he wanted all of her at once; he wanted to succumb to her inebriating epitome and lose himself in her.

She rested strategically between his legs and felt his swollen manhood begging for her attention. He moaned as she pressed into him; his hands found her backside and urged her closer.

She left his mouth and wandered down his neck and throat, nibbling on each centimeter of flesh her mouth touched. Her hands wildly spread over his toned, sculptured chest and teased the taunt tips. His quick intake of breath made her smile at the power she held over him.

She lowered her mouth to his chest; Erik bucked beneath her, and wound his hands in her luxurious hair. She headed south, kissing his washboard abdomen and appreciating the light dusting of hair that covered his chest in all the right places.

"Stand up, my love…beside the bed." She whispered.

Erik could do nothing but obey. He moved off the bed and stood still while Christine again kneeled on the bed in front of him. She paid veneration to his manly chest again, but intentionally brushed her breasts over the front of his pants, eager to see what it was that strained against them.

Erik was beyond reasoning and basic thought; he had entered the realm of the unknown where pleasure beyond his wildest imagination awaited him. He was only aware of the woman whose hands and mouth brought a body, which he had long since thought dead, to blessed, vibrant life.

Christine wrapped her arms around his waist and immediately felt the scars that littered his beautiful body. She startled for a minute and removed herself from the bed. She walked around to his back, touching him as she went.

What she saw, caused tears to flair into her eyes, and she felt the pain in her heart that this wonderful, beautiful man must have endured to be scared in such a way. Crisscrossing marks etched his tanned skin, and she traced each one with her fingers.

Erik didn't move a muscle, she needed to be aware of that part of him; the part that would cause him to slip into deep depression and cry out in the night. But he had never experienced the empathy of another human being over the pain he had experienced; and he wasn't prepared for the gut-wrenching way it effected him.

"Erik…" Christine cried; as she put her face to his back and caressed his scars with her tears.

Erik turned in her arms and lifted her chin, looking deep into her loving eyes. "Don't Christine…not now." He gently kissed her forehead and wiped her tears. "That's not who I am any more."

She smiled through her tears and caressed his marred cheek, pleading with God to allow her touch to remove the pain this tiny imperfection had caused him all his life.

"Let me show you what it feels like, Erik…too truly be loved…" She purred as she took his hand and turned him back around. "…just as you showed me."

She sat down on the bed, her face almost even with his abdomen. She ran her hands up his powerful thighs and curved them around to cup his tight, toned buttocks. Erik's head fell back as he groaned deep in his chest.

As her hands caressed him in the back, she placed her cheek to his engorged manhood, and ran it up and down his length, impressed with the size of him. He leaned into her, begging her for more.

She lay back on the bed and looked up at him, as he cast a confused look, "Undress for me." She demanded with sultry eyes.

Erik smirked seductively, wondering what it was she had in mind. He undid the button at the top of his pants, then the next, and the next…until each was unfastened. Christine saw the soft down of hair that was the prologue to what was still hidden from her.

"Take them off." She breathed; not believing how brazen she was acting.

The sight of her naked body on the bed demanding that he remove his pants, was the most erotic picture Erik had ever stored in his mind. He would never forget it.

He inched his pants over his hips and had to push extra hard to remove the material from his giant erection. He bent at the waist, removing the pants and kicking them away from him.

The sight before Christine was something legends were made of. His manhood was as impressive as the man himself; large, untouched, and powerful. He stood at attention and Christine only prayed she could take him completely inside her, for that was how this whole evening was going to culminate.

She yearned to reach out and touch him with the same loving strokes he had given her, but there would plenty of time for that later. She had other plans for him.

Her eyes adored his body and Erik thought he could die a happy man at that moment. She was making no move to touch him and Erik was beginning to get frustrated. 'What does she want me to do?' he thought.

"Stroke yourself, Erik…I want to see you bring yourself pleasure."

Erik's eyes shot to hers, showing his hesitancy to do her bidding, "Christine, I've never…" she saw the affirmation in his deep eyes, "…touched myself."

She could not believe that he had never given himself pleasure. Most men she had come in contact with while at the opera house, had bragged about, not only their female conquests, but the fact that no amount of women could quench the desire, so they had to appease it themselves.

Erik was pure, in every way. Not once in his life, had he experienced sexual release. Somehow, that knowledge both saddened and relieved her.

"Tonight is a night of firsts…let me watch you pleasure yourself."

Erik slowly wrapped his hand around his hard cock, and elicited a moan as he realized it was a pleasurable feeling.

"Now stroke, up and down." Christine's soft voice instructed.

He obeyed her as though she was his master, which she was…in a sense. She was teaching him to see and feel himself as a sexual being; something he had tried for years to deny.

His hand moved down the shaft and cupped his sac, noticing how hard and tight it was, compared to normal. He was exploring his own body for the first time, and he was enjoying it.

He moved back up and ran his hand over the soft, sensitive tip, sending a shiver through him from the sensation it caused. He repeated the process and could feel the tension building in his body.

He knew how the human body worked, and he knew he had to refrain from spilling his seed, so he grasped his sac with his left hand and continued to pump with his right.

Christine was so aroused she thought she would die from the heat coursing through her. His body was magnificent and his manhood was equally so.

His breathing was labored and heavy and his pumping had increased, as he experienced sensations he had never known.

"Open your eyes, Erik…I want to see the desire in your eyes."

He slowly opened his heavy eyelids and focused on the beautiful woman in front of him. She moved from her reclining position and sat in front of him once more, as he continued to work his aching erection. His eyes once again drifted shut.

"Stop." She moaned.

Erik could not believe his ears…she was asking him to stop when it felt so wonderful. He hadn't even finished the thought, when he felt her petite hand enfold his throbbing cock in its warmth.

He let out an open-mouthed moan and his head lulled back. She caressed him softly, fanning his desire, but not increasing it. It would not take much for him to go over the edge, and she didn't want that…not yet.

She lay him down across the bed and climbed atop him. Leaving his cock alone for a few minutes would allow his urgency to subside and she could take over.

She concentrated on his chest again, licking and biting in all the places she could. She moved up to his luscious mouth and licked his lips. His eyes were closed as she took his mouth in a heated kiss.

She ate from his mouth as though savoring the sweetest, most succulent peach in the orchard. She alternated between licking and sucking, causing Erik to meet each stroke of her tongue with an equally powerful stroke.

While she kept his mouth busy, she again grasped his cock in her hand and felt him rise to meet her touch; his deep throated moan encouraging her to continue.

"You're beautiful, my love…your body is a work of art." Christine purred into his mouth as she surfaced for air.

Erik barely heard her, but he smiled in response.

He felt her lips on his chest once more; but this time, she did not linger. Her left hand was still on his engorged manhood, but she was not pumping him. He did not look at her as she worked her mouth down his body.

He felt her hair tickling his soft abdomen as she moved, but it was such a pleasant feeling that he let it be.

Christine knew he wasn't expecting it, so she took his length into her mouth and felt him buck from the sensation. His eyes shot open and his head bolted up, as he found her between his legs with his rock-hard shaft in her mouth.

"Christine…you don't have to…" He could say no more as she buried him in her warm mouth; his eyes rolled back and his mouth dropped open as he eased back against the pillows.

He felt her moist mouth encircle his hardness, and tease him with light caresses; and then she began to take long, tormenting, deep strokes, that kept him in a state of arousal, but did not allow for release.

He propped up on one elbow to watch and wrapped his other hand in her hair as he guided her mouth on his manhood.

Watching her go down on him was almost his undoing. The friction she created with her lips, tongue, mouth, and hand was driving him to the boiling point. He threw his head back as he fought the urge to take his release.

She took one more stroke and Erik took control. He ripped her from his lower body and pulled her beneath him as he turned them both over.

He raised her hips with his thighs, placing her legs over his shoulders as he positioned himself for entry.

"Look at me, Christine; I want you to watch as I move in you." He ordered, huskily.

Her vibrant, passion-filled eyes focused on him as he slowly eased his length into her into her, pushing himself to the hilt as she moaned her pleasure. She was a silk cocoon around him; a satin-lined haven of pure bliss as Erik rested within her for a few seconds, just enjoying the feel of her around him.

He opened his eyes and bent to take her mouth as he slowly, steadily moved within her. His tongue undulated into her mouth as his cock filled her to perfection. He thrust in and out of her in both places, causing her to make whelping sounds in the back of her throat.

His thrusts became long, demanding, and primal as he surged into her. He could feel himself growing stiffer and harder with each entangled thrust. He rocked his hips against her, caressing her own swollen nub with his pelvis, knowing he could bring her more pleasure by doing this.

Christine bucked her hips with his thrusts and could feel that overwhelming warmth building in her again; but this time, it was even more powerful. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed the tightness of his backside as he heaved into her, time and time again.

She knew it was coming and felt its irresistible swell as she put her mouth to his shoulder and surrendered to her climax. She bit down on him, causing his pleasure to escalate.

Erik threw his head back and let out a guttural growl; he arched into her once last time, hard and deep, and felt her vaginal muscles hugging him as she reached her peak. He let go of his first orgasm, as his entire body shuddered from the strength of it.

He continued to move in her, milking every last drop of his seed into her. He did not want it to end, but he knew he would need a break before he could pleasure them again.

Christine held him to her, not wanting to let him go. She had never felt such pleasure in any facet of her life, and all she wanted was for it to continue. She kissed his cheek and ran her fingers through his tousled hair, "I love you so much Erik…" she wept into him.

He raised up and looked down into her love-flushed features, "Not as much as I love you." He teased.

She smiled up at his teasing remarks, "Can we do that again?"

Erik chuckled, knowing he would be ready again in no time, "We can do this all night, every night – and all day, every day…from now until eternity."

But he must have wore her out, because ten minutes later, she was making adorable, little bubbling noises as she slept against him. Her naked body was wrapped around his naked body; but amazingly, he slept in that position all night long and not one nightmare invaded his slumber…not one.

TBC


	26. Chapter 26

Well, I am glad that is over…those kind of scenes are exhausting to write; but I enjoy the reviews, thank you.

There have been some concerns about Erik's sexual prowess. I said that Erik was inexperienced when it came to making love, not ignorant.

He has had 34 years of reading, observing, and absorbing everything about the ways between men and women. He knows all there is to know about the art of making love; he had just never had a chance to put that knowledge to good use, until this point in time.

Just so that everyone knows, I am not familiar – in any way – with Greece. It's just an exotic place I wish I could visit. Therefore, I will not be going into a great deal of detail about this trip, it is a way to pass about three weeks of the time needed to conclude this story.

That said…we call this a filler chapter…

THE DAWN THROUGH THE NIGHT

**_Book VI: Wherever You Go…I Go_**

CHAPTER 26

Erik did not want to disturb Christine the next morning, so he arose slowly and silently. He turned to take in the sight that rested in his bed. She was a vision etched by the hands of God; and she was finally his.

He reached his gently over and moved the hair from her eyes; amazed at the way she moved into his touch, even in slumber. His body ached for another round of lovemaking, but he knew he had to get some things done today, before the weekend kicked in.

He wrote her a short letter explaining where he would be, dressed in casual slacks and a crisp white shirt, took one last, longing look at her sleeping figure, and padded out of the room in bare feet carrying his shoes in his hand.

He was out the door and gone before another soul stirred in the house. It was about an hour or so later when Christine stirred awake and stretched, reaching for Erik and not finding him.

She frowned disappointedly, until she saw his elegant handwriting.

_My Love,_

_I did not wish to wake you this morning, you looked so content to lie naked in our bed._

_There are no words to describe adequately what last night meant to me; so I will not even try._

_I have gone to secure our train and boat tickets for our honeymoon in Greece. You will find a sufficient amount of money lying on top of the dresser for your trip to the dressmaker today; we can also increase your wardrobe in Greece._

_Have a delightful time. I'm sure if you ask my mother, Brigitte, and Grace…they will be more than happy to accompany you._

_Loving You,_

_Erik_

She smiled as she remembered their passionate display and announcement of their love last night. She had never dreamt that it could be that way; but Erik had made it a reality.

She swept out of bed and dressed quickly, headed downstairs, and ate a banana for breakfast. Brigitte and Madeline were due in a half hour, and she had a feeling they would want to know about her and Erik.

Grace came bounding down the stairs and Christine could only smile at the girls bouncing curly head.

"Good morning, Grace."

Grace smiled up at Christine and gave her a hug around the waist.

"Good morning, Mama."

"I have some shopping to do today, would you like to come with me?" Christine noticed the little girls face light up with joy; shopping was one of Grace's favorite things to do.

Grace shook her head vigorously and Christine chuckled at her. They both heard the door knocker and walked to answer it together.

"Well hello, Grace." Madeline said as she knelt in front of the girl to give her a deep hug.

"Grandmamma, Christine is taking me shopping with her today!" Grace exclaimed, unable to contain her enthusiasm.

"Really!" Madeline replied, with equal fervor.

Christine reached out and played with Grace's long curls, "But first, young lady, you have to clean up that room…it is atrocious!"

Grace pouted up at Christine and then clung to Madeline, "Ahhhhh, do I have to?" She whined.

Madeline smirked at her little face, "Do what your mama tells you to do and your day will be much better."

Grace was not particularly happy with that answer, but she turned and headed for her room.

"Don't leave me behind, mama," she through over her shoulder.

"Not a chance, Gracie…now go, we'll leave in about an hour." Christine assured her.

Brigitte and Madeline made their way into the immaculate home and followed Christine into the parlor. They all sat down in front of the fireplace.

"What sort of shopping are you doing?" Brigitte asked.

Christine lowered her head and started twiddling her thumbs, "Not anything special really, just some new clothes to take on my honeymoon in Greece."

It didn't take but a few moments for the true measure of what Christine had said to cause a reaction.

"Honeymoon?" Christine heard in unison, as both women spoke at the same time.

Christine nodded and grinned. "He asked me yesterday!"

"Oh Christine, that's wonderful!" Madeline cooed.

Brigitte lifted her brows as Christine's line of vision landed on her, "Does this mean that Erik is warming up to the idea of having you as his wife?"

Christine giggled at that, "Things were certainly warming up around here last night."

It was Madeline's turn to raise her brow, but her eyes held a century of wisdom, "It's about time!" She stated, "I didn't think that son of mine was ever going to allow you to bed him!"

Christine and Brigitte both looked shocked at Madeline's choice of words.

"Madeline, you ought not to say such!" Brigitte chastised.

"Oh poppycock, I'm his mother, you're practically his sister, and Christine is his wife; I think we can talk about it." She chortled.

Christine's eyes glistened with happy tears as she looked at the two women who meant the most to her, "It was everything I had dreamed it would be…only better."

Madeline moved to sit by Christine and hugged her petite shoulders, "Erik's father was a great lover, so Erik probably takes after him."

Christine looked up into Madeline's soft blue eyes. "You don't speak of him much."

Madeline thought about that for a moment, "There's not much to say, really…he wasn't a good man." Her eyes took on a dark sadness, "Beautiful, brilliant, and really bad; that is how to best describe him." She jerked out of her stupor, "I don't want to talk about him."

Madeline looked directly at Christine, and then looked at Brigitte. Both women turned their heads and looked at Christine expectantly.

Christine smiled and shook her head, "I am not telling my adoptive mother and my mother-in-law about the details of my love life." She emphasized.

"You don't have to, dear; it's written all over your face." Madeline pointed out. "I suppose it is safe to say that the marriage can no longer be annulled."

Christine blushed and that was followed by a fit of laughter.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The day passed rather quickly for Christine and her entourage. They purchased five gowns, three casual day dresses, of equal beauty; six pairs of shoes, garters, hats, stockings, pantaloons, scarves, gloves…everything they could think of.

Christine couldn't remember having a more enjoyable shopping trip. They headed home at 4:30 and were able to get all the items carried in before the rain started coming down.

Erik wasn't home yet, which caused a little uneasiness in the pit of Christine's stomach. He had known that his mother and Brigitte were coming over, and had indicated he needed to talk to them about watching Grace while they were gone.

She missed him dreadfully, and was anxious to see him again. She pushed aside her anxiousness and concentrated on organizing for the trip, this was going to be so wonderful.

TBC


	27. Chapter 27

The reviews seem to be dwindling; I hope that is not a sign of discontent. Please let me know what you think, and thank you to those who have already done so.

Without further ado…

THE DAWN THROUGH THE NIGHT

**_Book VI: Wherever You Go…I Go_**

CHAPTER 27

Erik had finished buying the tickets by late morning, had bought a few clothing items for the trip, and was headed into the bank at 2:30 pm, when Charles caught up to him.

Erik stopped in front of the building when he heard his name and turned to see Charles walking toward him. He greeted him with a nod and waited to see why it was he needed to talk.

"Erik, I am so glad I was able to see you before you left." Charles stated.

Erik noted the desperation in Charles' voice and wondered what the cause was.

"What can I do for you Charles?"

"We had a potential client visit the site today; he is very interested in having you construct a summer family home for him and his new bride."

Erik allowed himself to seem interested, "Where does this home need to be built?"

Charles cast an anxious smile at Erik, "On about forty acres he just purchased in Marseille, his wife apparently fell in love with the area."

Erik groaned inwardly, Marseille was so far away. He would have to discuss this with Christine before he accepted the commission.

"Who was this potential client?" Erik asked.

"He said he knew you and hoped you wouldn't allow the past to influence your decision to accept his offer."

Erik cocked his head sideways and frowned, "I know very few people on a personal basis, especially from my past."

"He was a nobleman…" Charles was struggling for a name, "…de Chagny, I think he said."

Erik's head shot up and his eyes turned deadly. So Raoul had come to him for help…Erik would definitely have to see what Christine thought about this before he accepted.

"He wants to talk to you," Charles said, interrupting Erik's thoughts, "he's waiting at your office."

Erik sighed, "I suppose I can talk to him, but this will require a great deal of thought on my part…I need to talk to Christine before any finalities are made."

Charles shook his head in agreement and they rode together to where the large museum that Erik had designed was nearing completion.

Erik walked toward his office and immediately saw Raoul turn to face him with a genuine smile on his face.

Every nerve in Erik's body went on alert and muscles tensed; he did not trust this man and was not going to pretend that he did.

"De Chagny." Erik greeted with a nod of his head.

"Destler." Raoul replied.

Erik sat down at the large desk in his office and offered Raoul the seat across from him. They sat there, sizing each other up for about two minutes before Raoul spoke.

"You've made quite a name for yourself as an architect…Madam Giry told me you were a brilliant designer and architect, but I had to see it for myself." He offered in a complimentary tone.

Erik did not speak, but instead nodded, letting Raoul know that he had heard and accepted the words he spoke.

Raoul didn't say anything more for a few minutes. There was an awkward silence, which loomed between them for what seemed an eternity.

"Look, I know we have had our differences in the past…I judged you before knowing all the facts…but you must admit, you didn't make it easy for people to think good of you."

Erik scowled at the man who had been a thorn in his side all those years ago…it seemed like an eternity had passed.

"It was never my intention to make people think good of me...I didn't want them thinking of me at all." Erik admitted.

Raoul smirked; in that annoyingly handsome way that made Erik just want to slam his fist into his face.

"I would like for us to forget our past…acquaintance…and move forward." Raoul stated, "I would like to have you design and oversee the building of my summer home in Marseille."

Erik looked away, pulled back from his desk, stood, and walked over the window. He watched his men out working, and was thankful to have such a great work crew.

"Marseille is quite a long trip from Paris." Erik stated, "I will have to discuss a temporary move with my wife before making any decisions."

Raoul allowed a slight smile to cross his features, "How is Christine?"

Erik could only surmise that Raoul had read the papers, so he did not give the younger man the satisfaction of acting surprised, "She is wonderful; I'll tell her you asked about her."

By the time Raoul had finished giving Erik the details about his new summer home, it was 5:30 in the afternoon. He glanced at his pocket watch one final time, before Raoul finally concluded his instructions.

"I'll pay you whatever you ask…I have heard that you are more than worth every franc I will pay you." Raoul stated.

"I don't need the money de Chagny, I do this because I love to it." Erik spat, "Don't think you can coerce me into doing anything by bribing me."

Erik, once again, arose from his chair and headed toward the door, "Now, if you will excuse me…I am taking my wife on a long overdue honeymoon."

Raoul inclined his head and walked out the open door. He turned, one last time, and nodded at Erik.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

When he finally opened the front door and walked in, one would have thought he had been gone for days.

Christine had been uneasy since coming home and finding him still gone. She had been sitting in the parlor with Brigitte and Madeline, just passing the time, as she grew more and more anxious.

She rushed into his arms as he moved into the house, took off his cape, and hung his hat. He welcomed her embrace and wrapped his arms around her, holding her to him.

"Erik, I didn't know where you were…I was growing worried." Christine sighed, loving how it felt to be back in his arms.

Erik smiled down at her as he placed a kiss atop her head, "Do I take this to mean that you missed me?" he jested.

Christine swatted him playfully on the arm, "Of course I missed you, you brute…where have you been?"

Erik glanced up to see his mother and Brigitte staring at them with discerning eyes; suddenly, he was very shy about what he and Christine had done last night.

He reached down, took Christine's hand, and led her into the parlor. As he passed his mother and Brigitte, he indicated for them to follow.

"Come love, there is something we need to discuss." Erik murmured, patting the spot next to him on the divan.

Christine wasn't sure she liked the sound of that, but the look in Erik's eyes calmed her down.

"First things first," He said, playing with a few rebellious strands of hair as they crept into her face, "how was your shopping trip?"

For the next half hour, he listened to Christine, Brigitte, and Madeline describe the dresses and all the accessories. He adored how her face just lit up when talking about the fun she had.

"It sounds like a very productive trip." Erik commented, with a smile.

"It was…and I spent all your money… every last Franc." Christine boasted.

Erik chuckled and shook his head, "It's _our_ money, and you can spend as much as you like."

Christine moved closer to him and gave him a warm hug, "I love you."

"I love you more." He replied as he dropped his head.

Erik lifted her chin and moved his lips over hers, teasing them, ever so lightly, with his tongue; as he pulled away, he nudged her gently with his nose and brushed her lips with his. He was tempted to do more, but remembered that his mother and Brigitte were looking on.

He cleared his throat and sat straight up, "I would have been home earlier, but I ran into an old acquaintance of ours."

Christine furrowed her brow, unable to think of anyone that Erik would term as an acquaintance.

"Who?" she finally asked.

"Raoul." He replied.

Christine felt the panic rise her chest. What did this mean? Why had Raoul come here after all these years?

"He wants me to design and oversee the building of his summer home in Marseilles." Erik offered. "He has heard of my work and came to the site today to find me."

Christine did not say anything, but just listened to the lulling sound of Erik's voice. Erik saw the fear in her eyes and pulled her close to him to calm her.

"I told him I had to talk it over with my wife, because it would mean a move…whether temporary or permanent." Erik said. He raised her chin, once more, to look into her eyes. "He knew you were my wife, Christine…I can only assume he read the paper."

Erik felt her tremble in his arms and caressed the small over her back as he held her, "He won't take Jean Luc, Christine…I won't let him."

He moved off the couch and called Sam and Nancy into the Parlor. When they were in, he went to sit by Christine again.

"From this day forward, Jean Luc is the product of one night of passion that Christine had shortly after her marriage to Raoul broke up…understood?" Erik asked.

"A night of passion with whom, my I ask?" Brigitte inquired.

Christine didn't even blink before saying, "Erik."

"Me?" He asked, giving her an shocked glance.

She smiled at him and caressed his marred cheek, "Yes…you."

An impish grin suddenly rested on his gorgeous mouth, "Really…and how did this 'night of passion' come to be?"

"I was desperate to know what it really felt like to be loved… she purred, "…so I sought you out and seduced you…we've been together, on and off, ever since."

Erik liked the sound of that and grinned seductively, "Really?" he asked, "I wish I could have been there!"

Christine laughed, as did everyone else. This served to lighten the mood, making the subject easier to discuss.

After that was cleared up, Erik only had one more thing to ask, "Mother…Brigitte…would you be willing to stay here at the estate while Christine and I are gone…to keep an eye on Grace and Jean Luc?"

The older women smiled and nodded, as Brigitte said, "We thought you would never ask."

TBC


	28. Chapter 28

More lovin' for our studmuffin!

Enjoy, my lovlies!

THE DAWN THROUGH THE NIGHT

**_Book VI: Wherever You Go…I Go_**

CHAPTER 28

It was later that evening before Erik and Christine were able to spend any time together. Erik had taken a couple of hours and given Grace a piano and voice lesson; and then, he got down on the floor and rough housed with Jean Luc for a little while before he instructed him on the piano also.

It amazed him, as he watched Jean Luc, how much the boy meant to him. It did not matter that is wasn't his blood that flowed through his veins, just the fact that Christine wanted it to be his blood, made it so. Jean Luc was his son, and no one would ever doubt it.

Christine stood just inside the door of the music room and watched the man she loved nestle her tired son in his arms. They had just finished the music lesson and Jean Luc had ended the lesson with a resounding yawn.

Erik chuckled at the boy and picked him up in his arms. He saw Christine standing at the door as he picked Jean Luc up into his strong, safe arms. He winked at his wife and nuzzled Jean Luc's hair as he carried him into his room and tucked him in bed.

He silently headed back out the door, took Christine's hand, and shut the door quietly.

"Do you enjoy watching from the door?" Erik asked, gently smiling down at her.

Christine playfully pinched him on the backside and chuckled as he flinched, "Yes, I do…there is nothing sexier than a man who loves his children and is not afraid to show it."

Erik turned toward her as they headed into the library. He gathered her in his arms and rested his large, warm hands on her backside. Sam and Nancy had already retired for the evening, and the children were asleep…it was just the two of them.

"Sooo, now you think I'm sexy." He purred into her ear.

Christine giggled as he tickled her ear with his warm breath, "Noooo…" she purred back, as he cast a mock hurt look at her, "…I've always thought you were sexy."

Erik threw his head back and laughed, sending a warm sensation up Christine's spine. His laugh was deep and rich, full of all the wonderful qualities that defined him.

"That is one attribute I never thought anyone would use to describe me." He chortled.

Christine smiled, and led him, by the hand, into the library. She sat him down on the divan, but remained standing and looked down into his amused features.

"Wait here, I have something for you."

Erik raised a brow and smiled at her seductively, "Really?" he moaned.

Christine rolled her eyes, but the smile on her face showed her interest in his thoughts, "You wicked man, is that all you think about?"

He continued to smile, "Only when I'm around you…it you weren't so beautiful…" he thought for a moment before he continued, "…no, that wouldn't matter…I'd love you even if you weren't beautiful."

He saw the tears immediately form in her eyes and knew his words made her happy, "I love the other attributes you possess which far outweigh beauty."

She bent down and gave him a gentle kiss, "Hold that thought, I'll be right back."

She rushed out of the library and Erik sat there contemplating what it was that she had for him. He did not see her as she slipped back in the door and locked it. He was surprised she was back so fast, as he looked up and saw her headed toward him.

She sat down on his lap, as he cradled her in his arms, and lifted the small box up for him to take.

Erik looked inquisitively at the small package, no one had ever given him a gift before; suddenly, this became a very profound moment.

"No one has ever given me a gift before; well, except for the gift of Grace." He muttered.

Christine caressed his hand as he held the small package, "Open it." She urged. "I bought it with the money I saved from when I was the governess."

Erik looked into her loving eyes and murmured, "You didn't have to buy anything for me."

"I wanted to."

He opened the small box and stared, with bemused eyes, at the ring twinkling back at him.

"It's the wedding ring I wanted to give you on our wedding day." She admitted.

A single, large diamond rested in a bed of pure gold, surrounded by black onyx. Erik had never seen its equal.

He was too shocked to respond, so Christine took the ring out of it's soft, velvet resting place, lifted his hand, and began to sing...

"_With this ring, I pledge to you, my husband;_

_everlasting love, steadfast faithfulness, and interminable devotion._

_I give to you each beat of my heart, each breath I take, and each moment I live._

_You are the air that I breathe, the beat of my heart, and the light in my eye."_

Christine paused to watch a single tear cascade down Erik's perfect cheek. Her words were having the effect she had prayed they would.

"_With this ring, I promise you, my husband;_

_a life full of laughter, a home full of our joy, and nights full of our passion._

_I will seek what's best for you, always lift you up, and never cease to believe._

_You're a gift from God, the light of my life, and in your arms I can fly."_

Erik was speechless. The ring took second priority to the words she had spoken. Never had anyone said such things to him; let alone, sing them. He could see the sincerity in her eyes and the love he saw resting in their chocolate depth made him full of joy.

Christine had placed the ring on his finger as she sang her poem to him. The simplicity of the words and music was poignant and stirring; he sat in silence just holding her to him.

"It will never leave my finger…as long as I have breath in my body." He finally whispered. "Thank you for loving me, Christine."

She raised his chin to meet her eyes and ran her thumb along the soft sway of his lips, "Thank _you _for loving me, Erik."

She leaned into him and gently kissed him, moving her lips over his in a provocative dance. Erik responded by running his hand under her dress and up her leg, caressing her thighs.

Christine parted his lips with a sweep of her tongue, feeding on him like a starved woman. Without leaving his mouth, she turned in his lap and straddled his hips, with the skirt of her dress pushed up around her thighs.

Erik's hands slowly, deftly, began undoing each button on her bodice, with maddening precision. His hands barely skimmed the surface of her breasts as he worked to get the bodice undone.

The kiss was past the point of hot and heavy, they were surviving off each other. Erik finished with the bodice, pulled it out from her skirt and then watched as Christine stood up and removed everything; her skirt, blouse, corset, and bloomers.

"They were in the way." She purred, as she crawled back onto his lap, completely naked; the evidence of his interest pushing against her.

She rocked her womanly curves against his swelling manhood and heard the muffled moan that escaped him. He had his face in her bosom, taking in the scent of her.

His hands cupped the fullness of her backside and squeezed the pliable flesh, causing more friction on his erection as he bucked his hips into her.

She played with the dark hair at the nape of his neck, leaned into his ear with her incredibly talented mouth, and whispered, "I want you here and now."

She nipped playfully at the lobe of his ear. When she blew a warm, gust of air into his ear, Erik shuddered as a shock of raw desire bolted through his body and landed on his aching groin.

Christine could not get enough of him as she ripped his shirt from him, bent her head down to one erect, male nipple and took it into her mouth. Erik hissed at the sensation and felt his body jolt even more violently as he reacted to her aggressive onslaught.

She caressed down his bare chest and abdomen until her hand rested on his engorged cock. She massaged it through the material of his pants and seeing the damp spot at the front of his black silk pants, gave her cause to smile with female pride.

He arched into her as she worked his arousal with her petite hand. She slid down his body and rested her knees on the floor, between his legs. She undid his pants, relieving the pressure that constrained his very substantial manhood. She pulled them down over his hips as he rose up to accommodate her.

Erik had all these erotic images dancing in his mind. Images of secluded, scented rooms in the sultry Persian evenings where well-trained courtesans entertained guests from around the world. Erik had never participated, but he had observed their art.

He had been privy to the most renowned lovers in Persia and had learned how to make a woman writhe with uninhibited passion and desire. He had never had the opportunity to be on the receiving end of those well-trained bodies or to put into practice the art of lovemaking he had studied so intently.

Christine, resting between his naked thighs with her hands stroking his throbbing cock, brought those images to vivid, breathing life. She was his wife and she wanted to bring him pleasure.

With a swaggering smile, Christine lowered her head and set out to torment him in the most tantalizingly arousing way. She rode his rigid member with her tongue and mouth, lathing the underside of him and making her way to the sensitive head; desire slammed through Erik with surprising strength.

She continued to stroke with her hands and lap with her tongue; and then, she finally encased his generous length in her hot, moist mouth; taking him fully in…Erik's tortured, primal groan resounded off the walls.

He chanced a look from under long, dark lashes, and felt his cock grow even harder at the visual stimulation he enjoyed by watching her go up and down on him. He wrapped his hands in her hair and followed the rhythm of her mouth; his hips involuntarily rising to meet her mouth, again and again.

She swirled and slithered around his sex; going all the way down to his scrotum and then sucking her way back up. She was trying his sanity and restraint. Every time he felt the overwhelming urge to pour his seed, she slowed down; prolonging his sweet agony.

Erik had reached his limit and ceased her seductive foreplay by gently grasping her shoulders and pulling her toward him.

"Enough, Love; come here." He moaned.

She kissed up his belly as he gently pulled her to him. He sat her atop his abdomen, feeling the moist evidence of her arousal on his flesh. He positioned his hips and held his rock-hard cock in his hand.

"Sit on me, Christine; ride me…like you do a horse." He instructed, the desire filling his voice and eyes.

Christine grinned at his suggestion…never had she thought to experience this; Raoul was always traditional, never experimental.

She kneeled over him and eased onto his length, one aching inch after another. She took him all the way in and they both sighed loudly from the sheer, intoxicating feel of it.

When she finally began to ride him, Erik thought he had died and gone to heaven; it was unbelievable. She pumped slowly and Erik reached his left arm behind her for leverage, and with his right, he cupped the fullness of her breast.

He bent his head and sucked her jutting tip into his hot mouth, hearing her hiss. She continued to move on him and her moans were long and loud. Erik suckled her, drawing her supple flesh into his mouth and twirling his tongue around the sensitive tip.

Erik felt his orgasm building, and slowed her bucking down. He moved from her breast to her mouth, sucking her tongue into his hungry mouth and devouring her. She continued to ride him, but the rhythm had slowed, allowing Erik to regroup.

Christine, on the other hand, was nearing her first peak – and Erik knew it. He suckled her breast again and moved his hand to the junction where they were joined. He worked her swollen nub, rubbing it gently until she bucked onto him with a frenzied release.

She slowed her breathing and looked into Erik's amazing eyes. "Turn over, my love…on all fours." He brazenly ordered.

Christine could do nothing but obey. She turned over on the divan, her hands and knees on the seat. Erik came behind her and gently lowered her upper torso until her backside was in the air, and he eased into her again; marveling in the tight feel of her around him in this new position.

He drilled into her, and she screamed from the pleasure…clamping her hand over her mouth as she rammed back into his driving hips. Her head was flung back and her hair spilled over her back. Erik reached up and wrapped his hand in its softness.

He reached his arm around and fondled her breast as he moved inside her. He then took his hand to her engorged flesh and caressed her until she once again reached her pinnacle.

Erik could feel her constrict around him, and his own spiraling climax slammed down on him with red-hot urgency. He leaned his long form over her and kissed her shoulders and neck as the last thrust of his seed poured into her.

He wrapped his arms around her and drew her up to him, his cock still buried deep within her. He covered her breasts with his hands and massaged her glistening flesh as he kissed her with overwhelming tenderness.

"I want to sleep here, with you in my arms and molded to my body." Erik said, as they lay in each other's arms watching the flames dance in the fireplace. "I promise we'll be up before the others."

Christine moaned her agreement and turned in his arms to look up at him. "Where did you learn to be such a talented lover?"

Erik chuckled, "Well, I don't know how good of a lover I am, but I have had thirty-four years of research and reading; and on more than one occasion, the opportunity to observe and learn."

Christine's mouth dropped open in shock, "You have watched other people make love?"

Erik chuckled again, "Yes Christine, the gypsies often coupled in public, around the camp fire and the opera house was a wealth of decadent and forbidden information." His eyes danced with the flames of the fire as he thought back in time, "In Persia, it was considered an honor to be invited to watch couples mate in certain ceremonies, or to be invited to their private homes to watch and/or participate."

Christine frowned at that, green, bold jealousy bolting through her veins, "Participate?"

Erik was amused that she was actually jealous over the thought of him seeing other women in an unclothed state or possibly participating.

"My love, I never participated…I took their invitations as acts of pity, and I hate being pitied." He brushed his lips against her ear, "But I did observe, on many occasions" He saw that she was still not happy with this fact, "It is to these visual lessons, that you may direct your thanks…for they taught me much of what I know."

She shook her head, and her eyes closed in an exhausted, sated manner. She had a smile on her face as she curled into Erik's warm, protective embrace, and slept. Neither of them stirred until morning broke.

TBC


	29. Chapter 29

There will only be one more chapter after this one. I just don't like a great deal of life content in my stories, once I have brought Erik into the light. I like my readers to use their imagination in creating a life for my Erik.

Enjoy, my lovlies!

THE DAWN THROUGH THE NIGHT

**_Book VI: Wherever You Go…I Go_**

CHAPTER 29

Two days later, Erik and Christine stood on the shores of Igoumenitsa, Greece. Erik had loved the sea when he lived in Spain, the air always had a fresh breeze and the marine life was stunning to behold.

Christine hadn't been near the sea since she was small child, traveling with her father to various places as he played the concert violin. She had forgotten just how much she loved being near it.

"Do you suppose that we will ever live by the sea?" Christine asked, one night as they stood under the broad midnight sky and watched falling stars.

Erik smiled down at her and pulled her into his embrace; her back molded to him and he had his arms around her waist.

"We can live anywhere you want, by love…anywhere." He whispered into her ear.

She giggled as he tickled her, so she broke loose from his grasp, and set out running down the beach. It was completely deserted, with only the light of the moon to illuminate their path.

They had made love each night, and this night was no exception; except tonight, they made love under the stars on the beach.

To Christine, it was the most sensual and exciting thing she had ever done. The soft breeze caressed her skin in all the places that Erik's hands did not; the sound of the crashing waves played a symphony against the solid mass of the rocks…she would never forget this night.

Erik took her in wild, frenzied lust and then he repeated the act in soft, pulsating erotica; Christine would never grow tired of him, never.

They visited ancient ruins and modern museums; crystal clear beaches and green, lush gardens. There were few places that they did not see in the two weeks they spent there.

Erik had thought there was no possible way he could love Christine any more than he already did, but he was proven wrong. Each day, as he watched her face light up with the sheer joy she derived from sightseeing, or the wondrous depth of the ancient myths surrounding Greece…he fell more deeply in love with her.

They bickered over Erik's resistance at being seen in public places during the day, he still was not comfortable around strangers; but Christine had convinced him that it did not matter what others thought or said…he belonged with her, and she was at his side.

Erik was fascinated and impressed with the ancient and modern architecture in Greece and studied it intently. It resembled Persian architecture, with its flowing lines and curves, but Greece was in a category all its own.

Another wonderful thing about Greece; was the food. It resembled Italian in its texture and visual preparation, but the spices were very unique. Erik and Christine both enjoyed it, agreeing that they would have to find a Greek restaurant in Paris.

They danced and laughed their way through two weeks, and before they knew it, it was time to go home.

In the carriage, on the way home, Erik finally broached the one subject they had avoided during their honeymoon festivities.

"I've decided not take Raoul's offer." He stated, knowing this was what Christine wanted, even though she would never say it.

"It would allow him too much access to our lives and I do not fully trust him," Erik stated; then he shrugged his broad shoulders and added, "call it gut instinct."

Her eyes looked up into his, thanking him with their earnestness. Erik kissed her forehead; holding her close to him for the remaining ten minutes of the trip.

They had no more than stepped out of the carriage, but that Grace was bounding into her fathers arms and reigning kisses all over his face as he laughed at her antics.

Jean Luc was running toward them, trying to catch up with his longer legged sister, but he was unable to. He settled for ambling up to them and grinning.

Erik picked him up in his arms as Grace moved on to Christine. Once inside, Brigitte and Madeline joined them, and they talked girl talk about the sights and sounds of Greece, with Grace giggling through most of the conversation.

"Oh Christine, I'm so happy for you…you are absolutely glowing!" Madeline exclaimed.

Brigitte shook her head in agreement, "Yes, it's true…you do appear to be glowing from the inside, out."

Christine chuckled, "It must be the Greek sun, still dancing on my skin."

OOOOOOOOOOO

Life returned to it normal routine, for the most part. Erik went back to the site and found they had completed it and the contents were being moved in.

Three weeks later, they had the groundbreaking ceremony for the Destler Museum of the Arts; a project Erik had been working on for years. Many of the display pieces and articles were from Erik's personal collection.

Erik and Christine readied themselves for the gala, dressing in all their finery for the ball that would follow. This was a night to remember. Erik's future as an architect was secure and everyone, who was anyone, wanted to be around him.

Although Christine was jealous of all the women that seemed to flock around him at social gatherings, she was also proud of the fact that they now recognized what an attractive man he was; and he was all hers.

Christine floated down the stairway toward Erik, and he thought he was seeing a heavenly being. Her dress was of the deepest, purest blue with white lace overlays, a sweeping neckline, and lace sleeves. She had on black, velvet gloves, and around her neck was the exquisite black diamond necklace that Erik had purchased for her just two days before.

In her hair, she wore black and blue ribbons and her ears were studded with the earrings to match the necklace. Erik just dropped his jaw and studied her as she glided toward him.

Of course, Christine thought Erik was the heavenly being. They had coordinated on purpose for the event. He had a deep blue suit, white shirt, black vest with blue accents, and a black cravat. He wore a black mask and a devilish grin; Christine almost lost it right there on the stairs.

She came toward him with a come-hither look in her eyes, "There can't be another man as handsome as you are…you look magnificent, Erik." She complimented as she devoured him with her eyes.

Erik bowed at her flattery, and kissed her open palm; sweeping his tongue gently over the heated surface. A flush of desire raced through Christine as he pulled her into his embrace.

"You, my dear, have stolen my breath…" he kissed her deeply at this point, drawing her deep into his mouth and feasting on her, "…as well as my heart."

Christine fanned herself as she he pulled back from the kiss; her eyes sparkled and she adored him with their intensity.

"If you are aren't careful, my love, we'll never make it to this celebration…and you are the guest of honor."

"_We're_ the guest's of honor, wife." He grinned down at her, "Now, be a good girl and stop accosting me…we must be going."

Christine grinned back and playfully shoved him, "Oh behave, you beast, you know you want me."

They walked, arm in arm, out to the waiting carriage, picked up Madeline and Brigitte along the way, and made their grand entrance at 7 pm.

Handsome older men approached both Madeline and Brigitte for the evening of dancing. They never ceased being on the arm of a man, but as the evening passed, it was not hard to see that they had both found a man each, that was as interested in them as they were in him.

Erik kept a close eye on his mother; all her life, she had been taken advantage of by men …he wasn't going to let it happen again; but, he also knew she was lonely, and enjoyed the company of men. So, he stood back and watched her be the graceful, elegant woman he knew that she could be.

The museum was a resounding success and everyone raved about the quality of the displays and the elegance of the layout; they could not stop talking about it.

Christine and Erik rarely left each other's side. He held her to him throughout the evening, whether they were dancing or talking. He included her in every conversation he was in and never failed to acknowledge her.

Many of the people who had been in the opera house when Erik was known as the Phantom of the Opera, were present at this gala. They gingerly approached him, but found him to be a gracious host and brilliant conversationalist. His intimidating days were over, and he had become a vital, important part of humanity.

Monsieur Reyer, the conductor, came up to Erik and vigorously shook his hand.

"Monsieur Destler, it is an honor to meet under these circumstances."

Erik dipped his head, "Thank you, Mr. Reyer."

"I'm curious," the aged man asked, "do you still compose?"

Erik chuckled at that, why did everyone think you could just stop doing what was in your soul?

"Yes, I still compose."

A smile lit up Mr. Reyer's face, "I would be interested in seeing your compositions, I am part owner of the opera house in Rome, and your operas are just what we are looking for."

He reached in his pocket and pulled out a small card, "Here is my local address, please come by anytime so we can discuss the possibility of working together."

Erik took the card and nodded as the man walked away. Erik had always respected Mr. Reyer, he was a get-down-to-business man; a trait which Erik found admirable.

Erik turned to Christine and they both shared a shrug, life was certainly anything but boring.

"Would you care to dance with your husband, my lady?" Erik purred as he bowed low.

Christine curtsied back, "I thought my husband would never ask."

They swirled over the dance floor in perfect unison; everyone marveled at the way they complimented each other.

The dance had not quite ended yet when Christine suddenly stumbled into Erik. He stopped and looked down at her.

"Christine?" he held her chin up to look into her eyes. "Are you alright?"

He had barely gotten the words out, when she collapsed in his arms. Bile rose to his throat as panic set in. He laid her on the floor and began fanning her. He could see her breathing, but it seemed very shallow.

He picked her up in his strong arms, carried her out of the ballroom, and into a private parlor. Madeline and Brigitte followed in haste.

Erik turned to his mother with panic-stricken eyes, "Get the doctor…he's out there somewhere."

Madeline nodded and immediately went to look for the family doctor. Thankfully, word travels fast, and Dr. Thoreau was already headed toward the room.

He followed Madeline into the secluded alcove and observed Christine's color and breathing. He asked that Erik leave the room, wanting only Madeline and Brigitte to stay for propriety's sake.

TBC


	30. Chapter 30

Okay, I have managed to stretch one more chapter out of this. I will write an epilogue. More loving for Erik and Christine in this chapter…so ready the cold shower.

Enjoy, my lovlies!

THE DAWN THROUGH THE NIGHT

**_Book VI: Wherever You Go…I Go_**

CHAPTER 30

Erik paced outside the door, resembling a caged panther in his graceful, yet apprehensive stride. He felt completely out of control, and he did not care for the helplessness that washed over him. Tears stung his eyes as the worst thoughts went though his mind.

The hallway was deserted, for the most part; the ball and celebration was still going strong just a wall away, but Erik could not bring himself to care. He put his back against the wall and slowly slid to the floor, allowing his tears to stream down his face.

He did not hear his mother silently exit the room and come to kneel beside him. He longingly looked over at her as she knelt beside him, took him in her arms, and allowed him to cry into her shoulder.

"Oh Erik, don't fret…the doctor doesn't think it's anything serious." Madeline crooned, as she soothed his hair and rocked him in her arms.

"I can't lose her…I'd die without her." Erik murmured.

Madeline lifted silent prayers to heaven, pleading with God for the life of the young woman in the other room. Life had been so hard on Erik, and he had finally found peace and joy…two things he had never thought to have.

"He was still examining her when I came out to be with you…Brigitte stayed with Christine."

Erik released her and moved away enough to be able to look at her. "She loves me mother…I never dreamed that a woman could love me as a man; as a mate…" he closed his eyes as tears stung them again, "…but she loves me as a husband and passionately shares her body, her mind, her soul…everything…" he looked down at his clenched hands, "…with me."

Madeline reached up and gently caressed the wayward strands of dark hair that always rebelliously hung in his eyes, "I know, love…but you are everything a woman could want in a man…Christine sees this..." Madeline lifted his chin and stared into his somber green eyes, "…and something tells me that she's not ready to give it up."

The door opened and Erik shot up, the doctor and Brigitte came out, shutting the door behind them.

"Gaston…how is she?" Erik asked the doctor, trying to keep the terror out of his voice.

Gaston Thoreau looked up into the questioning eyes of the man he had known for almost a year. He had come to admire him for his courage and undeterred strength of character.

"She got overheated and overexerted; I have talked to her about her diet and health habits." Gaston stated, as he placed his hand on Erik's shoulder in an assuring manner. "Overall, she is very healthy; maybe a few more pounds on her bones wouldn't hurt, but she's healthy."

Erik's face noticeably relaxed, allowing him to smile slightly at the doctor, "So what do I need to do?"

"Make sure she eats properly – plenty of fresh fruits and vegetables, she needs to drink less tea and more water." He instructed, with stern eyes.

Erik shook the doctor's hand and knocked on the door as Doctor Thoreau headed back toward the gala.

"I'm going to take her home." Erik said as he went through the door.

Madeline and Brigitte stayed in the hallway, as Erik closed the door and approached the reclining figure of his wife.

Christine smiled a beautiful but weary smile at him as he drew closer, tears still glistening in his jade eyes.

He knelt down on the floor in front of the chaise lounge on which she was lying, he leaned over her, caressed her forehead, and kissed her gently.

"I've never been as completely terrified in my entire life…as I was when you collapsed into my arms." Erik admitted.

She pulled him to her for a warm, loving hug, kissing the soft flesh of his ear as he nuzzled against her.

When he pulled away, she was smiling a radiant smile and tears were in her eyes. His quizzical eyes rested on her as she chuckled lightly.

"There's something I have to tell you, Erik." Christine stated with a smirk in her tone.

Even the smirk in her tone didn't calm his distraught nerves. "What do you need to tell me?"

She looked deep into his wearied, stunningly green eyes and smiled, "We are going to have a baby."

It took a few seconds for the words to sink in, as Erik had not even considered that possibility…he didn't know why; they had made love, at least once, every night since they had confessed their love for each other. Somewhere, deep down inside, Erik had always assumed he could not be a father.

"Say that again." He whispered, as the shock began to wear off.

"You're going to be a father, Erik." She emphasized.

His only response was to pull her off the couch and into his lap, embracing her completely in his arms.

He rocked her in his lap and shed tears of pure joy into her softly scented hair. Christine held him to her and poured her love for him into his ear with words she had held back for so long.

"There could be no happier man on this earth, than me…you have…." He fought for the words that would express the deep, emotional bond he felt with her, "…completed me."

They sat there for a few minutes, just enjoying the silence and each other. Christine began nuzzling and kissing his neck; Erik chuckled seductively.

"I think I shall take you home, my bride…" his tone suggested his intentions.

Christine smiled impishly into his eyes, "That's how I got this way in the first place."

Erik's body was on fire. He ran his thumb over the curve of her breast, feeling her immediate response to his touch, even through her silky gown.

Christine hissed passionately at the strong sensation his touch was giving, "My body is so attuned to you…more so than usual." She breathed as her eyes closed with desire.

Erik kept his hands where they were and continued to stroke her to a mindless, passion-filled haze.

"I love how your body comes alive at my touch…" He purred, "…your eyes get black with desire, your body blushes and moistens, readying itself for me."

He bent his head to her ear and torpidly sucked her lobe into his mouth, running his tongue around the edge of her ear.

"Take me home, Erik…make love to me." She breathed as her body jerked with unreleased desire.

"Christine, you've just had fainting spell…are you sure…"

"Don't argue with me, Erik Destler, or I shall have to punish you, soundly." She teased.

Erik arched his perfect brow as he lifted her into his arms, "You'll have come up with some other threat, my love…I would enjoy being punished by you..."

Christine looked aghast at him and then broke out in a blush, "Erik!"

Erik's melodious laugh was heard all the way down the hall and into the ballroom, as he proceeded to carry her out the door and into their waiting carriage.

"What about Mother and Brigitte?" Christine asked.

"They know I'm taking you home." He assured her, "I'll send the carriage back for them."

OOOOOOOOOOO

Erik's hand rested on the tiny swell of Christine's abdomen. He had not yet made love to her; but had been basking in the joy of knowing his baby rested safely and lovingly in Christine's womb.

"The idea of our child being inside you…" he smiled seductively, "…makes me burn even more to be buried within you."

He leaned over her and placed a kiss on the place where he was certain the baby rested; then he began the passionate trail up her belly and ribcage, finally taking a swollen, aching nipple into his mouth.

Christine sighed, as the sensation of his mouth on her sore breasts relieved the pain. He was relentless in his pursuit, working her flesh with his mouth and tongue; pulling her engorged breast into his mouth and sucking her into a state of ecstasy.

He lathed at each nipple as she watched with avid eyes, enjoying the added visual stimulation of watching his tongue work her taunt peaks.

He rolled her over and suckled the flesh of her shoulders, shoulder blades, spine and lower back; biting and sucking as he went.

He reached the soft, plump swell of her backside and tenderly nipped at it, leaving pink spots of all over her. He spread her legs with his hand and worked her sex with his fingers, feeling her arousal against his palm.

Christine moaned from the exquisite, expert attention that his hands were giving her. She was certain he could bring her to climax with just his hands on her body, not even on her sex.

Erik moved over her until his hips rested in the juncture of her legs, he spread her legs wide over the sheets, reached his hand under her abdomen, and lifted her backside slightly off the bed.

He slowly eased into her, pulling her legs up and around his thighs, giving him easy access to her.

"Ohhhh….myyyy…." Christine moaned, as he filled her completely.

He slowly began gliding in and out of her, creating the most awesome friction, and building the fire within her.

Christine had never experienced anything like this…her body was alive with thousands of goosebumps covering her flesh, as he moved in her.

Erik leaned over her, put his arm around her, and pulled her to him with her back against his chest. She had her legs wrapped around his hips and each foot curved over his calves.

Erik rested his body over his thighs and sat Christine on top of them, his engorged cock still moving in and out of her. She moved over him, bouncing off his thighs as he thrust into her.

He put his arms around her and covered her breasts with his hands, working the nipples with his fingers as she writhed and moaned in his arms.

He moved one hand down to her sex and found the swollen flesh of her desire. He moved his fingers tenderly over it, causing quiet whelping sounds to come from Christine.

She bucked into him as she began her climb into climax. Erik laid her down on the bed, pulled her backside up to his hips, and drove into her even more deeply.

Christine screamed from the force of her climax, and Erik followed her into the world of bliss. He milked every drop of his seed into her, and then took her in his arms as he lay beside her, wrapping his body around her.

Holding her in the afterglow, Erik nuzzled into her hair and drank in the scent of her. He pulled her even closer into the haven of his body.

"Promise me we'll always be this happy." He whispered into her ear. "I mean, I know there will be tough times and bickering…but, promise me you'll never come to bed angry at me…hit me, scream at me…whatever it takes, but don't come to bed angry."

Christine turned in his arms and raised her hand to the wave of black hair that hung in his eyes. She pushed it back and then rested her forehead against his.

"I promise." She breathed, "Now, you promise me that you won't hide your deepest concerns and thoughts from me…that you'll never again allow yourself to sink into despair…no matter what." She stared earnestly into his gentle eyes.

He smiled, took the hand that rested on his cheek, and kissed the palm. "I promise."

Sleep found them both as complete contentment and joy glowed on each face. Erik held Christine to him until the dawn came through the night.

TBC


	31. Epilogue

PrimaDonnaKate – Dear Reader, I have never tried my hand at a sequel, in order to hold the attention of my readers, I would have to include mystery or dramatically full interludes. I am not particularly full of this kind of material, and I like to allow my Erik to remain joyous in his marriage without a great deal of drama in his life; therefore, I will not be writing a follow-up to this story. I am flattered that you wanted me to write one, that makes me feel really good.

I PROMISE YOU, THAT IF ANOTHER ORIGINAL IDEA COMES TO MIND, I WILL WRITE ANOTHER ERIK/CHRISTINE WORK OF FICTION.

I have an idea mulling about in my mind, I am just no sure how to develop it, but I'm working on it.

Mini Nicka – I am sorry about the honeymoon, I just don't know enough about Greece to go into a great deal of detail, I hope you enjoyed anyway.

GerardPhantomHot – I wish it didn't have to end either, but I have reached the desired point in this story, and must draw it to an end, I hope you will be on the look out for other stories I may write in the future.

THANK YOU TO ALL MY READERS AND ESPECIALLY, TO MY REVIEWERS.

So, this would be the final chapter, and I do hope that everyone has enjoyed this story, because I have enjoyed writing it.

God bless.

THE DAWN THROUGH THE NIGHT

EPILOGUE

Erik didn't have a great deal of time to think about the fact that he was going to be a father in the biological way. He finished the house on the back of his property and moved his mother and Brigitte in.

The museum was doing famously and he had been asked to start giving piano and voice lessons again; but his heart wasn't committed to these…he had larger dreams.

"Christine…what would you say to my purchasing, redesigning, and rebuilding the Opera Populaire?" he asked, about two months after the gala at the museum.

Christine was knitting a baby blanket as she sat near the window in the parlor. She stopped knitting and looked up at him as he sat next to her.

"I'd say it's about time."

Erik saw the smile in her eyes and grinned back at her, "It will be a great deal of work and commitment, but once it's built, I'll take a back seat to the managers."

He pulled her into his embrace as they sat on the divan, his hand rubbing up and down her arm. Christine closed her eyes and enjoyed being held. She nuzzled her nose into his neck.

"I want you to do whatever will make you happy…if this is it, then I'm behind you." Christine murmured.

Neither of them said anything for a while, but Christine felt Erik tremble slightly beside her. She reached out for his hand and looked into his eyes. What she saw there caused her concern.

"What is it, Erik…why are you trembling?" She asked, with a hand to his cheek.

He turned into her hand, closed his eyes, and kissed her palm; releasing the tears he had been holding back. He didn't know how to express what he was feeling without sounding ridiculous.

"Tell me, Erik." Christine crooned.

He opened his worried eyes and looked down into her equally worried features, "I don't know how else to say it…except to say that I'm terrified."

Christine said nothing, knowing that he would expound on his own.

"Desiree died giving birth to Grace…I watched her take her last breath…" his chin trembled and he lowered his head, "…what if…"

Christine put her fingers to his mouth to halt any other words, "That was eight years ago, Erik….there have been drastic breakthroughs in surgery…" she raised his eyes to hers, "…we are in Paris, not a countryside town."

Erik didn't feel any better with her words and Christine saw the rigid stance of his shoulders and pain in his eyes, "Erik, darling…I had no problems with Jean Luc…pregnancy, labor, birthing…everything was picture perfect."

Erik allowed a hesitant smile to grace his handsome features, "I couldn't bear to lose you." He whispered.

"Erik, what happened to Desiree is very rare…it was her time." Christine said, trying to comfort the emotional man beside her.

Erik shook his head; the rational side of him knew that her words were the truth, but the emotional side of him still trembled at uncertainty the future held.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Christine's pregnancy advanced without any trouble. Erik doted on her throughout the next seven months; making sure she had all the necessary niceties that would make her life easier.

Grace became increasingly excited about the prospect of a newborn baby. Erik had found her crying one night, thinking that he did not need her anymore. Erik sat down on the bed and pulled her into his arms.

"Grace, why would you think that?" he asked, not understanding why she would think that way.

She sniffled back the tears and lifted doleful green eyes to him, I occurred to him again, how much like him she was.

"This baby is your real baby, papa…." She wiped away a tear as it crept toward her mouth.

Erik tenderly smiled down at her and caressed her cheek, wiping the tears with the pads of his thumbs.

"Grace, you're my real daughter…you were hand picked for me by God, He planted you in a borrowed garden, having heard my plea for companionship and love…He designed you with me in mind…" Erik continued to hold her and rock her in his arms, "…and then, brought your mother and me together."

She would be turning eight in three short months, where had the time gone? It was just yesterday that he had fled to Spain on a train with a newborn in his arms. It was just yesterday that he had watched her first step and heard her first words. It was just yesterday that he had taught her to play the piano and harp. Erik felt the tears running down his own face, as he reflected on everything that this tiny girl in his arms had seen him through…nothing and no one could ever replace that.

Grace went on to ask endless questions about where babies come from, and Erik, knowing her too young for such knowledge, evaded the question as only he could do.

He sang her to sleep and tucked her in, knowing that she had no doubts anymore, about his love for her.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

June 30, 1880 started out like any other day in the Destler household. Brigitte and Madeline came in for breakfast, Grace bounded down the stairs, and Jean Luc sat down on his backside and slid down the stairs.

Erik sat at the table reading the morning paper before heading of to the opera house. He had purchased the abandoned building several months ago, obtained a crew, and had started renovations.

The news going around Paris was affirming, with everyone excited about the former Phantom now working to bring music, in all its facets, back to Paris in style. They had sold out on ticket sales weeks into the first season, which was scheduled for April 1, 1882.

Erik was about ready to leave for the day, but he hadn't seen Christine yet. He never left without his kiss, so he headed back up the stairs and knocked on their bedroom door.

"Darling, I am leaving…" he said as he entered.

His words caught in his mouth as he found her standing in the middle of the room in a pool of water.

Her eyes were calm as they found Erik's panicked ones. "Get the doctor Erik, it's time."

"Mother!" Erik screamed.

Madeline came bounding up the stairs as fast as any 53-year-old woman could and immediately saw the need. She rushed forward and took Christine's shoulders, guiding her back to the bed.

"No!" Christine stressed, "I'll get the bed all dirty."

Erik allowed himself a chuckle at that, "Christine…please sweetheart…I'll buy a new bed." He came and sat down beside her, "Sam has gone to get the doctor."

She doubled over with another contraction, "But Erik, this bed has sentimental value…" She pleaded with him, "…this baby was most likely conceived in this bed."

Erik knew she was being lighthearted to keep him calm, so he responded in jest, "There will be more babies made in a new bed…trust me." He said with a wink.

She smiled at him, but her smile was weary as the contraction released her.

Doctor Gaston Thoreau came through the door at that time and took over. Erik left the room, as did everyone but Brigitte and Madeline.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

It was only an hour later, when Erik and Christine's daughter made her way into the world with a loud, ear-rattling cry.

Erik ran into the room, having paced a hole in the hallway floor, and rushed to the side of his beaming wife.

"Oh Erik…she's so beautiful." Christine chimed through the tears.

Erik sat down on the bed next to Christine and pulled his daughter to him. The tiny face staring back at him was perfect in every way. He was humbled by the miracle that rested in his arms.

She had a head full of curly, dark brown hair – a perfect mix of Erik's and Christine's; ten tiny, long fingers and a straight, perfectly shaped nose.

He rocked her in his arms and cooed at her as her eyes blinked open to reveal a deep, deep green with brown circling around her pupils. She let out a wale that made Erik chuckle as she began searching him for the nipple that would provide her food.

"Oh no, my dove, you won't find that on me…" he turned and handed her back to Christine, "…someone's hungry." He said with a grin.

He watched as his daughter nursed at his wife's breast, marveling in the way God had provided everything she needed in the body of her mother.

He wrapped his arm around Christine and with the other, caressed the tiny head of soft, thick hair. His heart swelled with so much love; love he never thought he would experience.

"What shall we name her?" Christine asked.

"What was your mother's name?" he asked.

Christine smiled at him, realizing she had never shared that with him, "Evalina Christiana Daae."

Erik looked down at his daughter, "My mother's complete name is Blythe Madeline Hampton…that was who she was before she married my father."

Erik looked back at Christine, "He hated the name Blythe…saying it wasn't proper enough for a wife of his; he insisted she go by Madeline."

"Blythe Evalina Destler...I really love that – it's beautiful…just like her." Christine stated.

OOOOOOOOOOO

Blythe was the first of three natural children for Erik and Christine. She was as gifted in music as her parents, and she and her sister Grace both made careers in music. Blythe became the first diva to hold that title, uncontested, for over ten years. Her father's music house, Musique du Monde, was her world. She married at 23; a young man whose heart belonged to music and never hindered her career.

Grace had a very successful career as the top harpist in Europe. She gave command performances all over the world, and her parents never failed to attend at least one performance in every city she played. She married Count Vladislav Skordavika from Russia at the age of 25.

Jean Luc Destler, oddly enough, was a gifted architect, just like his father. Erik discovered this talent quite by accident one evening when Jean Luc was twelve; from then on, he had a passion for it and was designing structures at the age of seventeen. By twenty-eight, he was one of the richest men in France under the age of thirty. He had women coming at him from all angles, but he did not marry until he was thirty-three…she was quiet, soft-spoken American girl…the daughter of Baptist missionaries.

Gareth Magnus Destler was born on December 18, 1883. He was his fathers son in every aspect; tall, raven-haired, and beautiful. He studied every subject and was as much a genius as his father; but his love was designing. He studied the way people dressed and how they seemed most comfortable; he designed clothing to fit the way people moved and worked – comfortable, practical, and cost efficient. He married the daughter of Lord Byron Phillips from England, Lady Sherilee Phillips. He took his designs to America when he was 27, taking his ideas and designs to the Levi Strauss Company.

Kerstin Lauralyn Destler was the last of the children, born September 3, 1887. She was the mirror image of her mother, and the apple of her father's eye. Although a gifted singer and musician, she chose the road of domestic bliss. She married a young seminary student who had accepted a position as an assistant pastor in France. He had been educated in America, but his family was from France. She never lived far from her father, and inspired him in the many musical compositions, operas, and arias he wrote through the years.

Erik and Christine Destler were married for fifty-five years. They had five children, sixteen grandchildren, and thirty-one great-grandchildren before death claimed Erik in 1935 at the age of ninety. Christine followed him in death two years later, at the age of eighty-three.

THE END


End file.
